


My Favorite Weakness (is You)

by UniverseMarvel



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Avengers Family, Domestic Avengers, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt, Marvel Universe, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Pain, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is Trying His Best, Peter Parker is a Mess, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:21:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 44,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23240878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UniverseMarvel/pseuds/UniverseMarvel
Summary: Peter cries, "None of this is making any sense! Am I okay? Is something wrong? Dr. Banner am I crazy?""No," Mr. Stark finally speaks up, surprising Peter."You're dead."IronDad au post-homecoming; Peter vanishes from Tony's radar without a trace, and Peter has to learn very quickly what's real and what's not before time runs out.
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark
Comments: 53
Kudos: 134
Collections: Marvel Irondad and Spiderson, favorite iron dad fics 🥰





	1. Day One

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to incorporate virus feels into this first chapter, but without the scary quarantine and regulations. Let's say there's a mix of regular New York City life with a not-so-dangerous but new virus sprinkled in there somehow.
> 
> This picks up 3 months after the events of Spider-Man: Homecoming takes place.  
> Day 1 starts off slow, but just you wait :3

* * *

**Chapter One: Day One**

* * *

"Two weeks!?"

Peter asked, more incredulously than not. How could Aunt May's work ask her to come in for two whole weeks? It seemed she was already living there, and asking her to literally stay at the hospital seemed to be asking too much.

"I know, hun," May responded, and Peter knew she was just as bummed as he was, if not more. "but there are so many unknowns with this knew virus, they want to make sure that the medical staff aren't spreading it. We come into contact with more carriers than anyone else! It was either this or stay home for the next two weeks. I'm really sorry, Peter."

Peter was sitting next to his aunt at the breakfast table, eating what many would refer to as a weekend brunch, except it was a Thursday. They had both slept in, something Peter'd had no problem getting used to once the schools had closed to prevent the spread of a new virus.

Of course, he and Aunt May weren't worried about him getting it, with his enhanced immune system, but Peter worried about May, especially since she saw so many potentially sick people on a daily basis.

Here was his aunt, out there fighting even when there wasn't a bad guy or evil villain. Aunt May was as strong and determined a fighter as any given enhanced person on the street, and that made Peter proud -- and sometimes very, very worried for her.

He didn't know what to think at first, of her going for two weeks. He'd be fine home alone. Bored out of his mind, but fine. Nothing he could complain about in comparison with what she was facing. But May wasn't complaining. She'd been the hero type long before Peter had any powers.

They figured out details all weekend. Peter was to stay either at the apartment or at Ned's; she had gone over the rules with him so often he literally dreamed about them ("no Spider-Manning unless Tony Stark knows you're out, and don't stay out later than 10. Fine, 11 pm. call me before and after each patrol; and during if you have time," etc.). She had also stored enough food in the pantry to last him a month (she hadn't completely figured out his enhanced metabolism yet).

She would let him know when she figured out her schedule, and planned to call him before and after every shift ("and on breaks and after naps!"). Throughout the day, she'd randomly stop and give him one of her backbreaking hugs; "I'll transfer my love to you now via osmosis, to make our phone calls easier, she told him."

Despite the fun he knew he'd be having over the next 12 days, it didn't compare to how much he was looking forward to her returning.  
His heart hurt, and she wasn't even gone yet. He was going to need to keep himself busy to make it through the upcoming weeks.

* * *

\- Day 1 -

* * *

It was no surprise, therefore, that Ned was there less than an hour after May's departure the next day, both of them on their computers scoping out the city.

Peter couldn't resist the relaxed grin that rested on his face as he scrolled recent articles, trying to figure out what kinds of crimes he should be on the lookout for.

"Did you hear about that guy who got arrested for stealing toilet paper? I guess he won't need it if he ends up in prison." Ned talks almost as fast as his fingers whir on the keys, somehow clicking and reading and talking all at once.

"People are doing weird things," Peter agreed, "but I'm pretty sure you don't go to prison for stealing toilet paper."

"Who knows?" Ned shrugged, "anyways, you shouldn't have to wait until dark to go out. Despite everyone being home, burglaries have spiked! Or maybe it's because they have no creativity and can't think of anything else to do."

Peter smiled and spun around in his chair, "I don't understand it. Who could get bored when the entire internet exists?! Haven't you people heard of YouTube? I mean, learn a language or how to play the ukelele or something." His eyes wandered to the window, where the sunny and empty streets of New York were walking by.

Peter sighed; "I'm going to call Mr. Stark and let him know I'm going out on patrol."

"You guys are still talking?"

"We don't talk any less than before."

"You've called Mr. Stark recently and not told me??!."

Peter sighed; "No."

Peter looked down at Happy's text in his phone. Ned was right; there was no call or text history there, only the number which Happy Hogan had probably quite reluctantly forwarded him. After Peter had turned down Mr. Stark's offer to join the Avengers, they hadn't made much contact. Peter had been thrilled to find the gifted suit, and hoped that Mr. Stark's paper-bag gift was a display of a more relaxed... friendship between them, but Peter wasn't even sure "friendship" was the right word. The only personal things Peter knew about Mr. Stark's life came from Google, and despite not having many friends, Peter knew that wasn't how a friendship was supposed to work. Since May found out about his secret, Peter was pretty sure she'd spoken with Mr. Stark more than he had, especially once she'd asked him to "be there" for Peter while she was gone. He'd contacted Happy, giving report on his patrolling, but his daily logs had turned into weekly messages, and sometimes texts as that. He hadn't gotten a response until last week after May had spoken with them, when Happy had texted him:

 **Happy :)** : I've attached Tony's number. FOR EMERGENCIES ONLY.

Peter sighed, ignoring the pang in his chest as he opened Mr. Stark's contact info.

His words sounded hollow, when he spoke. "Yeah, Ned, we're good."

"And you're still Spider-Man, right? Even though you turned down the spot?"

"Yes, Ned, and I didn't turn down Spider-Man, just becoming an Avenger. We went over this."

"Right, right, I just didn't know what Tony Stark thought about it."

" _You and me both_ , Peter thought, as he called the number.

Ned went on, "Like, you turned down being an Avenger. Is Spider-Man even legal now? Or are you technically a wanted vigilante like Captain America?"

Peter grinned as the line rang; "Why do you think Spider-Man only shows up at night?"

"Because Spider-Man has homework," Ned teased. 

Peter gave him an unamused expression, "It was a joke."

All of a sudden, Tony's voice spoke up:

"What was a joke?"

"Mr. Stark!" Peter's mind was whirring 100 mph now; Ned fake fainted onto the twin bed against the wall. Peter turned away, not wanting his star-struck friend to cause him to laugh while he was on the phone.

Peter waved his hand exaggeratingly at Ned, who was whispering something along the lines of " _omigoshPeter-I-can'tGetOver-how-You're-literally talking-to-the-one-and-only-Tony-Stark-right-now-our-lives-are-so-cool_ " motioning for him to calm down before Mr. Stark heard.

"Hi Mr. Stark, how are you?"

"A joke, apparently." Tony's voice was full of its usual sarcasm. 

"No-no-no-no, that was for something else! Ned and I were talking about Spider-Man, and he said that--"

"Kid! You're good. Sheesh, I was also joking," Peter waited a beat, unsure how to proceed since he'd been cut off. Mr. Stark went on for him.

"What's up, kid? You called me for something, and I hope it wasn't just to chat. Aunt Hottie can't have been gone for... what, an hour tops? Have you and your friend already gotten in trouble? If so, please call Happy for those things, he's really good at handling problems."

"Yes Mr. Stark! I mean, No? I just, Aunt May said I needed to let you know when I was going to go on patrol, so, I was calling to let you know I was going on patrol."

He could hear Tony sigh over the phone. For a hot second he thought he was about to be turned down, and his nerves flahsed at the thought of not being able to patrol for two entire weeks.

"Sure, like I told your Aunt, I don't care when you go out. You're your own thing, and I respect that." Peter took that as an affirmative, and he gave Ned an excited thumbs up as he made his way to the closet to get the suit out.

"But it makes her feel better, and you've got my number now, so please feel free to text when you're going out. Save the calls for Emergency Only. Capisce?" 

"Capace, Mr. Stark! Thank you so much! I really appreciate it, thank you again for being willing to step in while--"

"I'ma stop you right there, kiddo. It's no problem, honest. But I'm being summoned, so have fun, stay safe, wear sunscreen, say no to drugs, yada yada yada. I trust you to make the right call. That's okay, right?"

"Yes sir, I just--"

"Perfecto. Ciao kid!"

Peter tossed his phone onto the bed and he and Ned began their adventure, day one. 

* * *

Tony could practically see the kid bouncing; he reassured himself that none of Peter's excitement was for Tony himself, but rather his freedom to be Spider-Man. Hell, Tony would be that excited if the government would tell _him_ to just text them whenever Iron Man would be making an appearance.

Peter's aunt had reached out to him, asking Tony to be there for Peter. She apparently knew of his alternate identity now, a development Tony hadn't known about. Maybe Happy had forgotten to tell him, or it was recent.

Not that it mattered to him, of course. Of course not. Why would it? Peter was running his own gig now, and didn't want or need Tony, he told himself. 

He was pulled from his thoughts as Pepper knocked again at his car window, facing her wrist towards him to emphasize the time on her watch.

He stepped out of the car, stepping in line with Pepper, who somehow kept everything she managed under perfect control: the company, her beautiful appearance, and the people she worked with. That is, everything except Tony. He knew he was the biggest problem in her smooth, flawless system, and he figured he was the only flaw keeping her from reaching perfection. 

Her words were sharp, but her tone kind; "who was that on the phone? I hope they were important enough to make us late for this meeting."

"I thought I surrendered these meetings when I gave you the company," Tony responded, ignoring her question. They walked into he building, using her key card to get in and down a hall.

"You surrendered _these_ meetings when you turned over the company," she said, holding up a folder thick with paperwork; " _this_ meeting, however," she held up a pamphlet as a representation of the importance of the meeting, "is one I can't go to for you. It has to do with SHIELD."

Tony stopped in his tracks, and gave Pepper a sour expression.

She rolled her eyes at him, to which he scowled; "Please," she said, leading him to the next door on the right, "this one is important, or I wouldn't have brought you here. I know how much you hate them." She wished him good luck and ushered him through the door.

Pepper closed the door behind him, taking a second to get herself in check and reorder her thoughts together before walking away with a shaky breath. 

Of course, she wasn't told a thing about the meeting, just that Tony needed to come to it. She really did try to get him out of it, as she normally did, pushing it off the agenda until a man showed up to her office one day and identified himself as a SHIELD agent. She figures he came to her because she was easier to reach than Tony and she could actually get him to show up.

The pamphlet he'd given her was for show, she knew, but despite her attempts to discover the intent behind the meeting, she was left in the dark.

That is, before she'd ushered Tony through the door. 

Not even a year had passed since Tony had been broken. The Accords had since gone into a state of revision, but as for Tony, Pepper wasn't so sure. She knew he was trying, but underneath the sly grin of Earth's Mightiest Hero was a soul still broken.

She always told people that she had the company, and Tony had Pepper. But she knew he also carried the world. She didn't know what had happened in Siberia, but the people who had helped Tony with that task had left him to it. 

She wasn't ready to pick up the broken pieces again, and honestly she wondered if Tony could make it through something like that a second time. Which is why she was so worried when she glimpsed the profile of Steve Rogers in the split second she had seen within the room Tony just entered.


	2. People who Stab You.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony deals with people and himself, and Peter goes out on patrol. Each face problems, and both need help.

On Friday, Peter managed to stop several robberies, car thefts, return a stolen bike, but unfortunately no toilet paper roll thefts. He hadn't heard back from Mr. Stark, but he figured no news was good news. Peter noticed people seemed to be breaking into cars more with the virus fears floating around, but other than that it was a pretty regular start to the weekend.

Tony's Friday, however, was anything but regular. He'd spent all day (and night) swamped with paperwork and phone calls, and was only forced into an in-person meeting once by some important-looking official guy. He re-prepares everything in the tower for the new residents, something that wasn't difficult considering it had been done before, at a time that felt all too long ago now. His thoughts (and the idea of unread paperwork - unwanted homework on a disliked topic) chased him into his lab, where he locked himself away, without his phone, choosing to busy himself with his work. Distract his mind. Focus on something that wasn't painful. Honestly, he was hiding from the fact that somehow in the last... x amount of hours, the rogue Avengers had been given permission to move back to New York. The way Tony understood it, is that he is the new ward for the Avengers Team, not that he believed in the team anymore. How could these idiots possibly see Steve as ever becoming a part of the team after all that had happened? And sure, Wanda, Vision, and Barnes were still MIA, but Barton? Romanoff? Wilson? These people weren't teammate material anymore; these were people who would stab you in the back and ask you to apologize for standing in the way.

And Tony says No.

Tony spends all night tinkering, oblivious to the time, until his Metallica volume diminishes upon an enterance from Pepper.

She greets him with a cup of coffee, and he accepts it for the peace offering it is.

"You can't hide back here forever, you know."

Tony shrugged the comment off, tucking the coffee mug into his work corner.

"I don't see why not, it's worked thus far."

Pepper only scoffed at him, following him on the reverse side of the table to hold his attention.

"You know what I think about your problem-procrastination strategy."

"Me? Procrastinate? Never. I do think you make some great points, however."

"Tony," Pepper protested, seeing where this was going (or wasn't going, for that matter).

"On a totally unrelated note," he continued, "could I come back with a solution to my problems at another time? They definitely seem like 'tomorrow' issues."

"Tony."

"Hm?" He took a long swig from his coffee, using this time of silence to finally make eye contact.

"It *is* tomorrow. You've been in here all night."

"So it's Saturday. Work can wait until Tuesday."

"If this had solely to do with the company, I'd agree. However, we both know it isn't about that."

"So you're agreeing it can wait until Wednesday?"

"Tony."

"Well we both know Thursdays are reserved for visitation."

"Tony." Pepper's voice got quieter, and Tony knew his gig was up.

Tony gripped his mug with on hand, leaning back in his chair, and rubbed a slow hand down his suddenly exhausted, worried face. He bit the inside of his cheek in contemplation, freezing for just a moment. Pepper walked around the table, stopping at his side, her presence all but supporting.

After a moment, he seemed to realize her presence, and looked up at her dolefully, before setting down his empty cup and knocking the desk.

"Whoever said 'work hard, play hard,' must not have done a good job; because from my experience, personal success is met with more responsibility. I *am* doing a good job, right?" His eyes met her, looking for a response more than listening for one. Whatever he was looking for in Pepper, he must have found it, because he looked back down with a grim smile (but at least there was a smile) as Pepper touched his arm.

"You're smart enough to know you're doing the best job."

At that note, Tony got up, unsure as always of how to respond to a compliment.

"Well, duty calls."

"And sleep left a message, please be sure to attend to it sooner than later?"

"We'll see."

After Pepper left, Tony went and got the paperwork. He read through everything, taking breaks every few pages to distract himself, secretly appreciating the time he got alone to process. And process he did, and by late-afternoon he'd made it through the paperwork, a new set of upgrades for his suit, and a good bit of whiskey.

_________

Steve, Clint, and Natasha knew all too well that Tony would make his appearance at his own pleasure, so they settled in quietly those first few days, patient and thankful.

* * *

\- Day 2 -

* * *

Peter's Saturday, similarly to Mr. Stark's, ended up being painful as well; only where Mr. Stark's pain was more, emotional (don't tell him that), Peter's was physical. With all his online homework out of the way, he'd planned on spending the entire weekend on patrol. Ned had to leave early Saturday to spend the day with his cousins, so he and Peter woke up, packed up, and planned on catching up after dinner. After his daily text to Mr. Stark ("Hi Mr. Stark, this is Peter, just wanted to let you know I'm going out on patrol! Have a great Saturday! Please let me know if I can help with anything! Thanks! Peter"), he immediately suited up and swung off into the early morning sunshine.

Everything ran smoothly for the first few hours. He helped some teenage tourists find their hotel after their phones had died, he stopped a guy who'd snagged a lady's purse and gotten that returned, and turned in some guy who he caught going car-to-car peering in windows for valuables and checking for unlocked doors, loose trunks, and easy-to-break car parts.

Just after noon, he heard an apartment alarm go off, and followed the sound to a fourth-story apartment, the loud ringing coming from a window, far above the parked cars below, whose lock had apparently been slid open the wrong way, from the outside fire escape. Peter didn't hesitate to slide in the open window into a guest room, only realizing after he was in that the overwhelming noise was taking out his ability to hear anything in the dimly-lit apartment.

"Hello," he called out, hoping not to scare the owners of they were in there, "is anyone here?"

His spider-sense warned him to duck, and he did so just in time to look up to a kitchen butter knife quivering in the wall above him where his shoulders had just been. He rolled to the right, using the nearest hall for protection.

"Hey, I know it may be difficult to believe, but I'm not butter!"

He waited only a second before peeking back around the corner to spot who had thrown it. They were already gone, however, so Peter ran down the hall to find them. He went straight for the fire escape, just to check for anyone, but they weren't out there, so he turned back inside.

Leaving the guest room for the second time, he called out again, offering the familiar game prompt:

"Marco!"

If "Polo" answered back, he wouldn't have known; all he could hear was the ringing fire alarm, which seemed to resonants inside his head, throbbing off the top and bottom of his skull.

"Karen, could you help with the noise?"

If Karen said anything, Peter couldn't tell it apart from the ringing, but after a moment he found that she had somehow managed to block out most of the noise. He thought he heard a faint door slam, but it might have been closer, depending on how much noise Karen was blocking out. The alarm was still ringing in his aural memory regardless, and he tried to shake the noise out of his head while he crept down the second hall.

Looking into an empty room as he passed, he figured the owner of the apartment had to be a jeweler or something, since there were empty ring molds and weird tools and pictures of fancy diamonds and jewelry everywhere in it. That alse made sense why someone would rob an apartment this high above the ground with only two possible ways down.

He walked into an open doorway, which opened to his left to reveal the front room of the apartment. He then noticed a man struggling with the front door, tugging on the handle, then watched him feel the bolt lock above the handle which required a key to lock and unlock.

"I can tell you're more accustomed to breaking *in* to homes rather than breaking out of them," Peter offered, lifting his arm with the intent to web the man as soon as he turned toward him.

The ski-masked man, however, didn't flinch at all, and it took Peter a second to realize it was because he couldn't hear him with the alarm still blaring outside of his mask.

So Peter went ahead and webbed one of the guy's gloved hands, the one that was on the doorframe; he wanted to make sure the door could still open and close. The man jumped back, pling awkwardly on his shoulder, and tried to twist one way before he realized he had to twist the other way to get his arm to cooperate.

"Sorry-not-sorry," Peter said mostly to himself, knowing the guy couldn't hear him.

The guy's eyes flashed with recognition which quickly turned to anger, and his hand quickly went for his coat, smoothly reaching into a pocket. Peter's spider-sense flared again, louder this time, and he quickly took a few steps forward and webbed the guy's hand in place.

He quickly figured there was probably some weapon that Peter would gladly not see for himself, since his spider-sense was still loud. He swiftly shot more webs into the burglar's arms, ensuring that whatever weapon his hand had a grip on would not leave his coat pocket, when all of a sudden he felt a searing pain enter his right shoulder, all the way down to his bone. He cried out, which felt weird since he could only hear it in his head, and his entire right arm constricted in response to the now radiating pain; he instinctively reached back with his left arm, finding a hand gripping something that was digging into his shoulder, right under his shoulder blade. He twisted the person's wrist, hard, causing them to let go, probably due to a few broken bones. He turned around, punching the guy in his masked face, not too hard but just enough to knock him down.

How stupid could he be? Why wouldn't he think to look for a second guy? Just because they were four stories up a fire escape didn't mean that only one guy would have made the climb.

He looked at his shoulder, trying to assess the damage. He tried to move it, but a flash of pain caused his vision to go spotty, and he decided he could only do without one of his senses for now. He saw the guy on the ground move, and Peter went to web him up, but froze when he saw what was in his hand. Peter didn't *do* guns. However, watching this guy, it appeared, strangly enough, that this robber didn't seem comfortable with one either. His hand was shaking as he pointed it at Peter, and the burglar yelled something at him, beckoning to him for something. With wide eyes, Peter slowly lifted his hands, which seemed to be what the burglar wanted, because he stood up and backed out of the room, gun still trained on Peter.

Those seconds passed by slowly, and Peter could only feel three things: the pain radiating from his shoulder to the rest of his body, fear of the man going the weapon in front of him, and the blood path trickling down his shoulder, under his suit, already finding its way to his lower back. Those three feeling dominated every millisecond, and it wasn't until the man disappeared behind the hallway's walk towards the fire escape that Peter released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, which unfortunately released another wave of pain. This wave caused him to fall on one knee, but his thoughts focused on the escaping man, and he refused to let his other leg give out on him. Instead, he picked himself back up, taking g a few steps forward. Before reaching the doorway, he turned back to the first man, the one webbed to the front wall.

Peter held up a finger to him, his left arm still pressed against his right shoulder, trying to hold the pain in. "You stay there," he ordered, and turned the corner.

By the time he got to the fire escape, he could barely see the man escaping two floors below him through the holes in the metal frame. He looked out the entrance of the alleyway, and saw flashing blue and red lights reflecting off the walls; the police must be taking the front entrance, then. He tested his right arm, seeing if he could put weight on it, but that was an easy no for now. So, he climbed onto the outside of the fire escape and half fell/half jumped down to the one below it, almost catching up with he man already. He dropped again, turning so he was looking at the man from the fire escape above him. The man glancd up at him, then jumped through the last fire escape, using the railing to control his fall. Peter climbed onto the first floor fire escape and shot a web at the man, now on the ground. It stuck his leg to the cement, and the man fell on his face.

"Ouch," Peter commented. It was then that Peter realized he still couldn't hear anything, not himself, not the man who was probably swearing up a storm, not the alarm coming from three stories above him nor the sirens that had to be accompanying the flashing lights.

"Hey Karen, could you pelae return my ears?" Immediately sound returned, and Peter jumped into the corner of the railing, squatting to look comfortable, while more realistically he was trying to hide the fact that his arm hurt like heck.

"Hey, you know, if you--" Peter didn't finish what he was going to say, because when the guy turned, he had his gun trained on him again. Peter jumped back, onto he further corner, reaching around but only finding air. His breathing increased, and the silence he'd experienced earlier was now starkly replaced by intense minute noises, such as the creaking of the shifting metal and his increased heart rate pushing blood through his ears. Time seemed to freeze again, the only evidence otherwise being the man's shaking hands.

Then he spoke, in a deep but scared voice.

"Let me go."

He motioned outward with the gun, pushing it forward, asking for an action to be taken. Peter told himself to focus, and remembered to breath in, before a gunshot filled his sense and he fell backwards, out of shock. His head whipped up to see policemen filing in the alley as he lost his balance, falling backwards off the fire escape. He landed on his back, and was sure he'd just been shot in the same shoulder. He rolled sideways, crying out, and gripping his shoulder, blinking rapidly through the paint that was coursing through his body.

He turned his head sideways, on the ground, to look at his attacker. He didn't understand what he saw, at first. The man's hands were bleeding, and the police were still walking forward, guns trained on him. Why was *he* bleeding?

All of a sudden, everything clicked.

The knife. Peter hadn't been shot, but rather it was the knife. It must have been the police who shot, at the sight of a man about to shoot Spider-Man.

Then, Peter must have fallen on his back, pushing the partially inserted knife into his back.

Peter sat up, and tried to slow down his breathing. He could see the police had surrounded the burglar now, had taken his gun ("it's a fake," he thought he heard one of them say), and were trying to figure out what to do about the webbing attached to his foot. One of them turned to him, and Peter waved and gave them a thumbs up. He had to get out of there. He knew he was only a several blocks away from his apartment, but he honestly didn't think his shoulder was something he could just bandaid up; he was scared to look at his shoulder with the suit off, and wasn't sure how much blood he was losing. He figured he'd climb to the roof using his left arm and call Mr. Stark from there.

Less than halfway up, however, his injury proved to have other plans. The tension from climbing must have been pulling something, because it felt like the wound was just tearing, ripping, or twisting with every pull upwards.

"Karen, would you please call Mr. Stark? I hope this constitutes as an emergency."

"Calling Mr. Stark."

The line rang, but after several tones, clicked off to silence.

"Mr. Stark," Peter asked, hopefully.

"Mr. Stark did not answer the call."

"Oh." Peter pulled up again, continuing the journey to the roof. He was over halfway now.

"Can you call again?"

"Of course, Peter. However, I would like to note that he has not responded to either of my previous alerts."

"When were those sent?"

"When you were stabbed by the burglar, and when you fell and stabbed yourself."

"Okay, we'll try a few more times, and I guess we can call Happy if he doesn't answer."

"That sounds good, Peter. Calling Mr. Stark."

There was still no answer, not even a voicemail option, by the time Peter flopped onto the roof, taking his mask off. He turned onto his left side; he figured if he stopped moving, the wound should hopefully at least stop bleeding. He was able to feel the blood dripping now, down to his left shoulder and onto the gravel roof that was supporting his weight, the rocks sticking to the sweat covering his face and the blood now coating his left neck and shoulder.

His eyesight was blurrying, in and out, trying to focus; it reminded him of his pre-superpowered eyesight days.

Karen's voice rang through his head, "calling Happy Hogan."

Peter weakly nodded assent.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed until Happy's annoyed voice.

"Peter, what's up? I'm in the middle of something."

Peter took a shaky breath, and mustered up the energy to speak.

"I kinda got hurt. I'm sorry."

Happy paused, and for a moment Peter feared that Happy wasn't going to believe him and would hang up.

"How hurt?" Peter released his breath, now that he had someone to help. He sat up, looking around at the skyline and assessing his arm. It didn't seem to be bleeding as much as it was earlier.

"I need help, I just got stabbed in my shoulder."

Happy drew in a sharp breath. "Did you take the knife out?"

"No. Should I?"

"No no, the doctor here will deal with it. Can you meet us at the tower?"

Peter stood up slowly, groaning, testing his ability. "I think so?"

Happy paused again, and hummed. "Hmmm, no. I can pick you up, where are you now?

Peter looked around, and told him his location. "But what about the doctors?"

"What about them?" Peter heard a car door slam over the phone.

"I mean... are they okay... treating me?"

Happy sighed again. "Yeah, Tony's got doctors. Have you spoken to Tony, by any chance?"

"No, he didn't pick up."

"Figured as much. I'll make sure he knows, and I'll see you in about 10 minutes. You think you'll be okay until then?"

"Yes. Thanks Happy."

"Don't mention it. It's part of the job."

Peter climbed down and hid himself down the alley they'd discussed, and waited for Happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to give input, ideas, kudos, feedback. 
> 
> Tumblr: UniverseMarvel
> 
> Let me know what you think! (Please!) ❤️


	3. Chapter Three: Knife's Out.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter Parker Needs a Hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't decide to write shorter chapters in order to update the story more often, or longer chapters to show more sides of the story. This chapter covers one side of the story, with a brief glimpse into another's.
> 
> A character only knows as much as they know about medical things!

"Peter!"

Peter looked up to spot Happy, and stood up from where he was leaning against the brick wall. His injury had already stopped bleeding, and he assumed that was a good thing, since he wouldn't go into the low-blood-volume shock that he'd once heard about. He walked towards the car.

"Get in," Happy got out and walked around the car to open the door. Happy paused when he actually turned to look at him, worry written within his features. Peter paused, looking down at himself. He noted the dark, wet looking spot that had taken over the majority of the upper half of his suit. He looked back at the car. "Get in," Happy repeated.

"It'll stain the seats."

Happy looked even more bewildered after that comment; he looked almost tongue-tied. Almost.

"Get in the car now, we can replace the seats later."

Peter looked up at him. "Are you sure?"

Happy sighed, "of course I'm sure, I said it, didn't I? Now hurry up so we can get you to the tower."

Peter got in, and Happy closed the door behind him and went around to get in. Peter was hurting too much to say anything to Happy on the ride; his shoulder was throbbing, the pain radiating out. He tried to zone out, think about something else, to distract his mind from all the pain; but every time he was able to focus on something, they'd hit a bump or Happy would say something. He could tell Happy was worried, because Happy never encouraged conversation. As they got closer, Happy actually said something softly that no one with normal hearing would have been able to hear, that caused him to worry.

"Just what he needs right now."

Peter's breath caught; was Mr. Stark ok? Was Peter intruding again? Would he be mad Peter got hurt? Mr. Stark had mentioned that he felt like Peter was his responsibility. What if he thought Peter had been irresponsible? After all, it had been pretty stupid how he'd gotten hurt from the same wound twice. Would he take the suit away again? Peter tried to sit up more. Happy made eye contact with him in the rearview mirror.

"You still holding in there okay?" Happy sounded worried, and Peter wanted to stop that.

"I'm doing better," Peter said. That part was true, he thought, since the bleeding had stopped. "It doesn't hurt as bad." That part was a lie. Happy used the red light stop to look at him in the mirror. Peter held the eye contact, swallowing down a throb of pain and focusing on keeping his breathing steady. Happy didn't say anything and shook his head, but Peter wasn't sure if he believed him or not.

Peter must have been out of it, because it seemed like time jumped from him sitting in the car to walking through the Avengers' Tower's back door. Once he was aware enough to realize where they were, he was surprised that Happy had brought him to the tower at all and not to the hospital or some private medical practice center. Peter put his mask back on even though Happy said he didn't need to - they were in a private section of the tower, but Peter insisted. Happy walked with him in the elevator that was closed off to the public and lower level staff and employees, and brought them up. Peter had no idea where they were going, he'd been in the Avengers Tower no, it was Stark Tower now, before, but never further than the front lobby where he and Ned had gone in just to look around at all the important-looking people and gape at the fancy interior design.

He may have been "out of it" for the most part, but he didn't miss the concerned side-glances that Happy was shooting his way, more specifically in the direction of his contorted shoulder. Peter could feel that something was very wrong with his shoulder (if his inability to move his entire right arm didn't give it away), and decided to try and not think about it. He tried to imagine instead what kind of school nurse Mr. Stark had hired for his Avengers-- no, _Stark_ Tower. 

The self-distraction must have worked, because the next thing he knew, a wave of pain was waking him up to Happy standing above him. Wayyy above him-- Happy wasn't that tall... Peter blinked. Why was he on the floor?

Happy was talking really loudly on the phone. Peter groaned and shakily sat up. Searing pain coursed through his shoulder. Happy noticed his movement and squatted down next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He was still talking on the phone to to someone.

"Yes, no, uh-huh, he is, yeah right now, I'm with him, he is now, we're on the med bay floor by the soiled linens room... Alright, see you in a minute."

Happy turned his attention back to Peter. "They'll be here any second."

Peter nodded. "I'm fine."

Happy scoffed, "sure you are, you both always are."

That didn't make sense to Peter, so he didn't say anything. A low throb had begun to rise in his head, and the lights seemed to be getting brighter around him. He closed his eyes to block out the light, but Happy protested.

"Nu-uh. Keep your eyes open, just one sec-" the elevator doors dinged open, and noise filled the space around Peter. He kept his eyes closed, which was good, considering information decided to flood his senses all at once. There were multiple people talking -- did they _have_ to yell? Peter was sure they were jumping rather than stepping; and something was rolling on the floor, someone was writing something and the intermittent scratching noise of an old ball-point pen dug its way past his ever-growing throbbing headache and into the back of his skull. He clamped his hands over his ears, and someone used his flexed arms to grab ahold of and pull him to a standing position before seating him in what he guessed was a wheelchair. He could still hear everything that was being said through the pulsing of his blood through his hand, which may not have been so bad if he could make it out, which he couldn't because there were multiple conversations going on in might have included the entire floor above or below them.

They wheeled him somewhere and assisted him onto a bed. When they tried to pry his hands off of where his ears were hidden under his mask, he protested: " _the lights_ ," which didn't quite make sense, apparently, because the lights stayed bright and the noise grew. 

He felt a prick in his neck, and then the noise and the lights dimmed, followed quickly by his thoughts and his consciousness. 

* * *

"Boss, I have an urgent message from Happy." FRIDAY's voice interrupted the music blasting in the workshop.

Tony didn't look up from what he was working on. "What part of not bothering me don't you understand? Because I need to fix that."

FRIDAY ignored the question. "He says it's an emergency."

"I hired him for emergencies, he'll be fine."

Friday paused again. "He says to tell you it's concerning 'you-know-who' and that your presence would be greatly appreciated in the medical wing."

Tony kept working; "they have enough medicine and DNA in that lab to create another Cap, much less fix the old one. Now please refer him to someone else, you were doing so great there for a while."

Friday left him alone, but the silence was short-lived.

"I'm sorry Boss, Happy insists that I tell you in his words that this medical emergency is concerning 'Spider-Man, who is not, for your information, a captain but actually a kid and I swear Tony if you don't--"

Tony stands up, interrupting, "where are they?"

* * *

The first thing Peter's aware of is the most annoying beeping sound he's ever heard. And the more he tries to find some other, _any_ other noise or sensory distraction to focus on, the louder it becomes.

The second thing he's aware of is that there's another pair of lungs breathing in the room. He turns his head, but can only see darkness. He squints, confused, and realizes he can't open his eyes. The beeping increased a little bit as his fear spiked. He tried to move his hand to his eyes, but his arms felt heavy, like they were waterlogged, and he wasn't sure if they moved at all. He tried lifting both arms up, which resulted in a sliver of pain sliding from his shoulder through his chest. Eventually he conceded, and his arms relaxed again. He tried to swallow his fear, causing him to cough weakly.

A voice cut through the air, "Peter?" It surprised Peter and was gone again too fast for his brain to register whose it was. 

Peter's voice was weak but strained; "I can't move."

The voice was louder this time - maybe closer. It was someone he knew. "You're waking up from sedation, you'll be able to move any minute now."

It didn't make sense to Peter, how was this okay? "I can't open my eyes!"

This time Mr. Stark spoke. Or had he been speaking the whole time? "It's okay, the sedation's wearing off. Any minute now you'll be able to. Or second, considering how fast your metabolism burned through those meds."

Peter tried to figure out how any of that was related to his current problem, but couldn't. He clenched his hands, ignoring the pain that threatened to spike if he moved his right arm any further. "I can't open my eyes," he repeated, in distress. He felt a tear roll down his cheek and turned his head, trying to hide it despite not knowing which side Mr. Stark was standing on. 

"Can I take your mask off?" Peter paused, registering the question and trying to make sense of it.

"What?" What mask? Where was he?

"Your mask. You're still wearing it. Happy apparently insisted you wear it throughout the procedure, to protect your identity, said you would've preferred it."

Peter took in this information. So he was wearing his mask; of course he was -- he could feel it now. Why did that matter?

"So may I take it off?"

Right, he'd forgotten about the question. "Sh- sure." 

He felt a hand reach his neck and slide it off. He instinctively tried to reach a hand up to help, but although his arm could now move some, it didn't quite make it to his face. The room still didn't get any brighter as his eyes failed to open. 

"See, you're moving already." Maybe Mr. Stark was trying to be encouraging, but he still couldn't open his eyes.

Peter didn't speak for a minute, and he heard Mr. Stark sit back down somewhere in the room. 

"What procedure?"

"What?"

"You said they left the mask on for a procedure. What did they do to me?"

"They took a knife out of your shoulder."

"Oh." Everything flooded back to him then. He felt caught up on his life, besides not knowing where he was.

Peter heard Mr. Stark let out a quick breath, a laugh.

"What?" Peter asked.

"Oh, nothing, I just doubt your aunt will respond so casually when she finds out the news."

Peter blinked his eyes open and found Mr. Stark, making eye contact to shoot his best glare at him.

"Don't tell May. Please."

Tony smiled, "Honestly, she's much scarier than you."

"Please, Mr. Stark!" Tony stood up, stretching, causing Peter to wonder how long he'd been sitting there, how long he'd been out.

"Okay, but promise me you will."

Peter stared at him. "Okay."

"I'll take that as a yes. I'm gonna let the doc know you're awake, so she can talk to you."

Tony pressed two buttons on the display next to the door. One of them opened the door, and a lady walked in a few seconds later holding a clipboard and a StarkPad. She looked at Peter and stopped in the doorway. 

"Good morning," she said pleasantly, then continued walking in, giving Tony a meaningful side glance; "or rather 'good evening.' It's Saturday evening, in case you haven't been oriented yet. My mane is Dr. Cho; how are you feeling?"

Peter stared at her. He'd realized too late that his mask was still with Mr. Stark, who was standing by the entrance now. He spotted it in Mr. Stark's hand. Dr. Cho followed his gaze and turned back to Peter saying, "don't worry, I won't tell anyone your secret, not that I'm allowed anyway with my practice. I'm here because I'm trusted both as a doctor and as a person." He saw Mr. Stark nod in agreement in the background for only him to see. 

Peter relaxed, and sat up further in the bed.

"I don't know."

"You don't know how you feel?"

Peter paused, looked again at the mask in Mr. Stark's hand, and all of a sudden felt the need to downplay this assessment if he wanted to get the suit back. He needed to act mature.

"I feel fine. Where am I?" 

Dr. Cho kept her attention solely on him; if she felt the skeptical look Peter could see Mr. Stark giving him (which Peter didn't doubt she could), she didn't show it.

"You're on the medical wing of Stark Tower. Do you feel any pain?"

"No." No, besides the fact that his right arm and entire chest felt like it was burning from a fire coming from his right shoulder after using it to sit himself up.

"What about in your shoulder?"

"No."

The doctor paused, looking at something on the StarkPad. Her eyebrows went up, but she responded like she believed him.

"Okay, that sounds good. You should expect some pain upon usage, and I don't know how long it would last. You burned through the sedation serum faster than expected, despite giving you an adult dose," she paused, and Peter got the feeling that it wasn't for him, but she caught his eye and went on, "so if you let me know when it hurts I can make sure you get anesthetics. Pain reducer medications. Which we would have to dose especially for you, since you burned through the anesthetics about 12 hours faster than we'd anticipated."

Peter quickly glanced at Mr. Stark. "Okay, thank you. I feel fine, though."

Dr. Cho smiled, "and that is good to hear."

Dr. Cho assessed his shoulder, agreeing that it looked much better, insisted to let her know if it hurt, and answered any questions he had. Eventually she got all the info she needed, and left the room, depressing a button on the door panel on her way out. 

Peter and Mr. Stark stared at each other for a moment

Mr. Stark broke the silence. "Alright kid, where does it hurt?"

"It doesn't."

"You just woke up from a surgery where they had to cut open your shoulder to remove a metal knife. Your shoulder isn't even done healing yet. There's no way it doesn't hurt."

"It doesn't. Maybe it just looks worse than it actually is."

"You got stabbed."

Peter shrugged, an action he immediately regretted. "May says that life is 90% what happens to you and 10% how you respond."

"And I say that you were 100% stabbed, 100% on your way to having a much worse prognosis, and 100% a bad liar."

"That's 300%, Mr. Stark."

"And yet only a fraction of my problems."

They resumed staring at each other, both waiting for something to happen.

Peter went for it. "May I have my suit back?" 

"You may have _my_ suit back when I'm done fixing it."

"You said it was mine!"

"And you broke it."

"It was an accident!"

"Yeah, about that--"

At that moment, Happy appeared in the doorway. Having heard their banter from the hallway and now spotting Peter awake seemed to cause Happy to revert back to his same old annoyed self. "Tony, have you even looked at your phone? You have 52 unread messages, and each one of those have been redirected to me when you've chosen to ignore them! And that's just since you've made yourself reachable again!"

"And I trust you handled them appropriately." Tony thanked him, in his dismissal kind of way.

"I can't 'handle' people who are still downstairs waiting to speak to you."

"Why'd you let them in?"

"Because they technically live here now, Tony, and if you--"

"Let's not talk business in front of the kid," Tony interrupted.

Happy looked back at Peter. "So I'm on babysitting duty again."

Peter had a million questions, but he played along. He was grateful to Happy, anyways. "You know you love me."

Happy shook his head as Tony pulled out his phone to send another call to voicemail. "It's all part of the job," Happy muttered.

Tony clapped his hands and stood up; "well, I'll leave you two to it. Squirt says he's feeling all fine and dandy, but if you pick anything other than sunshine and rainbows up, call me."

"So you can send my to voicemail," Happy responded.

"One of my favorite hobbies."

Peter protested, "you're leaving? But I haven't been discharged." 

Tony paused. "Happy here can fix all that up for you, he can call the Doctor back in here if he needs to. And unfortunately, I do have problems waiting for me downstairs."

"Oh." Peter tried not to let his disappointment show. 

On his way out, Tony turned to him; "I'll have your suit ready within a few hours. But you can't go out until you're actually better, regardless of if you're feeling _fine_."

Tony gave him a pointed look that said Tony saw right through him.

Happy and Dr. Cho assisted Peter on final assessments, checking medication levels, and more tests to make sure he could function at home, swallow and not suffocate, keep his balance, what signs and symptoms to report, and some other things. Dr. Cho said she'd be interested in doing further bloodwork and research on Peter's metabolism so she could provide specialty care in the future, if he ever was interested. Peter thanked her profusely, to which she replied that he should come back if he needed to but to take care. 

Happy dropped him off at home, and Ned met him 20 minutes later, where they caught each other up on the day's events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Waking up from sedation can actually be really scary. Have you ever had to? Do you remember it? I haven't but I got to be there when a family member was waking up.
> 
> We'll see more of Tony's point of view next! Because boy, guilt is currently a lot more real than a healthy coping mechanism is for him.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter! That's why I write. Let me know your thoughts!
> 
> I also saw the movie Knives Out and really liked it, did you catch my pun??
> 
> Feel free to connect on Tumblr: UniverseMarvel. I'd love to message with you, exchange thoughts, ideas, or randomness!
> 
> P.S. I promise it will start getting more interesting next chapter.


	4. The Fastest Way to a Friend's Heart...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...is through his stomach.
> 
> Tony surprises Peter, but who gets the most out of his visit?
> 
> Don't tell Tony, but Peter accidentally makes a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos! Every one means a lot!

Tony had arrived while Peter was already in the operating room. And they didn't even let. him. in. 

"There's no point," they had said, "he's already under. Mr. Hogan just told us he was enhanced, so it took us a few tries to keep him under. He really gave the anesthesiologist a run for his money!" Tony didn't laugh. 

They explained the ordeal to him, explaining what had happened. Apparently after the knife had been forced in, almost protruding out the front, his body had tried to begin healing around it. The surgeons were confused when they had to cut through freshly healed muscle to remove the blade. Otherwise, there were no signs of infection, and sleepiness was to be expected while his body healed. There was probably a bunch of other details, but as long as Peter was going to be okay, Tony would be okay.

Tony felt so stupid for shutting off all contact. When he'd seen the kid had called him SIX TIMES after the attack was thought to have happened, Tony felt guiltier than he had in a long time.

He didn't want to admit that he had forgotten he was partially responsible for a teenager when he'd decided to turn off communication.

"Only for emergencies" he had told the kid, and then he wasn't there. How _Howard_ of him. Tony paused, thinking, " _did I just compare myself to my father in terms of this kid?"_ He must have had more to drink than he'd thought. 

When the surgery was over later that afternoon (thank _Odin_ Happy had thought to leave the kid's mask on), Tony got rid of everyone and pulled up a chair. Dr. Cho said she expected Peter be sedated overnight until Sunday morning, so Tony decided to try to get a good ol' chair's night of shut eye.

That "night" ended up being a few hours, however, when Tony was awoken by Peter that same evening. The kid had to be in pain. 

However, Peter denied it, no matter how Tony or Dr. Cho asked. Tony got the feeling the kid was hiding something from him; he supposed the kid was probably mad at him for being so unreliable. Hell, the kid's single guardian had left him, and trusted Tony. And Tony let him down the one time he'd needed it. 

Then he'd let his feelings cause him to treat Peter like he did when Peter had woken up. Some support he had shown the kid.

Tony honestly wouldn't blame him if Peter never wanted to talk to him again. But he knew Peter was better than that, better than _him._

 _Technically_ , he thought, _this isn't the first time. _There was the whole vulture-guy thing last month (was it last month, or longer?). And sure, Tony hadn't reached out to the kid since then, but the kid was fine. He'd been the Spider-king of Queens, according to his spidey-suit's AI report. Peter was there for New York.

And Tony wasn't there for Peter. 

And he wanted to be there, now.

If only Thy Very Own Captain America Himself weren't downstairs.

Tony promised himself to make it up to the kid, somehow, later. No, sometime soon. Besides, he had a feeling he would be able to use the distraction. He had Happy drop the suit off with the kid.

On his way out, Dr. Cho stopped him. 

"My nephew is a big fan of Spider-Man, so I often hear about the amazing - _and_ dangerous - things he is doing to protect those around him. I only say this to make sure you realize that he is a child."

No shit, Sherlock. Why was everyone doubting him all the time? 

Tony got all caught up on what was going on with the Rogue's before he met them in person. This would be the second time he's seen them, the first was at that surprise meeting.

Tony officially hates surprises.

However, his next surprise is a pleasant one, though he wouldn't admit it. Steve Rogers hardly said a word, despite Tony's tired snappiness throughout the entire House Welcoming speech thing Tony gave, and Natasha Romanoff didn't speak to him. Who knew where Barton was. Oh, and the Winter Murderer, here was somewhere around here too, unfortunately.

Sure, it wasn't the warmest house welcoming, especially by Tony's standards, nor the best ice breaker (if it could count as one at all), but Tony was the good Samaritan here, right? Besides, it was late. And Tony was running with neither enough caffeine nor sleep to last through anything confrontational.

The only good news was that the Rogues (someone had told him to stop calling them that) would be going back and forth from the tower to the compound, so with a little planning and strategy, Tony would be able to avoid them.

This was the longest weekend Tony could remember having for a while, and he hoped that the week was getting all of its terribleness out in this weekend before.

* * *

\- Day 3 -

* * *

Peter figures he shouldn't have been surprised to find the suit the next morning, already fixed, in the bag that he'd carried home his stuff from Mr. Stark's medical wing. It was folded in a black zipper bag thingy this time, with a note that read, "feel better first" then in smaller letters, " _Queens needs a living Spider-Man_."

Peter knew he shouldn't go out on patrol Sunday, being the day after surgery, which of course ensured that that was the only thing he wanted to do. He scarfed down a bowl of cereal and headed out, and a slow morning allowed him to call May and Ned. 

Everything seemed to be going well; the only thing was that he felt weak and dizzy at times, even when he was doing minimal work, but that could be expected the day after surgery.

He was eating a hot dog that an elderly couple bought him after he stopped someone from stealing the old lady's purse, when his suit alerted him to a call; Peter was surprised to see who it was, and he had Karen patch it through (as if he had a choice).

"Out again so soon?" Tony Stark's voice met him with his friendly but accusative voice.

Peter's mouth was full, but he answered anyway, assuming Tony could hear him with the bottom of the mask pulled up (he was right). "Uh, Queens needed her Spider-Man?"

"Mm-hmm." Peter could hear the dismissal in his voice; but then he went on. "So I was thinking, I've got a few things I'm working on and thought you might be interested in, I don't know, being a trainee or something for a day."

It wasn't a question, but Peter answered anyway, "that would be awesome Mr. Stark, I'd love to!"

"Alright, I'll pick you up when you get down here." 

Peter looked down, not sure what he was looking for. 

"Look left," Mr. Stark said. Peter looked left. He recognized Mr. Stark's car immediately, not because he'd seen it before, but because the bright red car (Peter could only identify it as a Bugatti...maybe).

"I see you," Peter exclaimed, before jumping off the wall, catching himself and landing right next to the car. Mr. Stark didn't let him in, though.

Looking at him through the open window, with his sunglasses on, Tony said, "say, why don't we meet at the tower, for your identity's sake," he gestured to the interested onlookers who, understandably, were gazing curiously at The Spider-Man approaching a multi-million dollar vehicle. Peter didn't understand how Spider-Man hanging out with Iron Man could give Peter Parker away, since the two of them didn't hang out as is (with either identity), but it sounded promising to him so he agreed. Peter would have appreciated the car ride, though, since his dizziness and tiredness were transforming into nausea and weakness; his arm didn't hurt, however. He didn't complain, though, and headed off for Stark Tower.

Once they arrived at the tower, they make small talk as Tony leads him upstairs. Peter took in everything he'd missed when he had last been here.

When they got off the elevator, FRIDAY's intruding voice caused Peter to jump. "FRIDAY, meet Peter, Peter meet FRIDAY." 

"Where is she?" Peter asked, looking at the ceiling. 

"She's AI."

"Like Karen," Peter nodded in understanding.

"Who?" It was Tony's turn to be confused.

Peter's pinks tinged pink. "Um, that's what I named my suit's AI."

Tony smirked. "After someone you know?"

Peter groaned, "ew, absolutely not; that would be weird."

Tony, "I guess it would depend on who you're naming it after. By the way, you've got normal clothes on under that suit, right?"

"um....."

"That's okay, I've got backup."

One embarrassing outfit later, Peter found himself wearing clothes he'd never be caught dead in at school; that, and the outfit together probably cost more than a month's rent on their apartment. Peter walked out, speechless.

"You look like a puppy in a costume."

"Do not."

"Do too."

"Shut up."

"Ouch, that hurt. Are you saying you don't like my style?"

"No-NoNoNo - I just mean that your style isn't exactly... my style."

"You're just being nice."

Peter followed him up another level and down a hallway; then they turned a corner, and Peter froze. This was _Tony Stark's lab._ Peter could have fainted; in fact he had to move, otherwise he might have.

"Whatchya think? A little bit of an upgrade from even Midtown's, if I dare say so myself." Tony smiled at how in-awe the boy was, his eyes were big and his hands were shaking.

Peter laughed, walking in circles now in an attempt to take everything in, "Yeah, a little." He turned back to Tony; "What did you say _you_ needed help with?"

Tony smiled, "a distraction. Where would you like to begin? I have your current suit's blueprint right here, I'd love to hear your ideas on any upgrades; I promise I'll at least _consider_ them."

A couple hours passed, and Peter was working on trying to make the suit material on his hands more comfortable; he was working a few feet (about a meter) down from Tony at the same table - he'd insisted on staying close despite Tony telling him he was free to roam. Tony had music on, playing lower volume than he'd normally set it for the sake of Peter's ears, so they were able to hear when someone was dialing the keypad to come enter. They both looked up to see Pepper at the door, and the music dimmed even more as it opened. Peter looked at Mr. Stark, who shrugged at him in response; Peter stood up.

She apparently did not see him at first, because she spoke directly to Tony.

"Tony, we talked about this, you can't just--"

"Pepper, how are you?" 

"I'm swamped with your neglected work. We just talked last night-- Who's this?" Pepper froze, noticing Peter, who was looking not-okay.

"This is my intern, Peter. Mr. Parker this is Pepper."

Peter was doing his best to stand and act normal. But in truth something was wrong.

As soon as he'd stood up, it'd felt like all the blood had left him, and its grounding mechanism as well. His vision was splotchy like a lava lamp, and he could only catch glimpses of Ms. Pepper Potts _the Pepper Potts_ between black globs.

The world seemed to spin, and next thing he knew he was on the floor again. He heard their footsteps rushing over to him as he struggled to sit up. He cursed himself in his head.

"Tony--" he heard Ms. Potts say, concerned.

"I'm okay, Ms. Potts," Peter groaned and sat up. the splotches were gone for the time being, but had been replaced by pain in his stomach. 

"He wasn't even that excited to meet me," Tony chipped, kneeling down next to him, "you should feel honored," he said to Pepper. Peter could feel his cheeks turn pink.

"Tony." She gave him a disapproving look. "Peter, are you alright?" 

"Yes, I just," his stomach hurt. "I think I'm hungry?"

Pepper spoke to him, but looked at Tony. "We'll make sure you get some food. Any responsible adult knows teenagers get hungry."

Tony looked guilty, "you assume I'm an adult."

"I hold on to the hope, for some reason" Pepper returned, reaching for Peter's hand to help him up. 

Peter jumped up, instead, to show that he was alright, holding onto the table for extra support. 

"Why don't I get him food, and you--" Tony started.

"- and _you_ will meet me right back in the conference room. The one close to the kitchen." 

She could tell by Tony's face he wasn't for it, but he could tell she wasn't joking. "Sounds great, Ms. Potts," he replied sarcastically but submitting in his own way.

* * *

After Mr. Stark and Peter were in the kitchen alone, Mr. Stark sat him down on a stool. Peter felt like he was about to be interrogated; turns out, he wasn't exactly wrong.

"Tell me," Mr. Stark began, facing him opposite of the kitchen's bar-style counter, "When was the last time you've eaten?"

"I had a hotdog today around noon, right before you called me!"

"And before that?"

"I had breakfast."

"Composed of?"

"Cereal."

"Hot cereal?"

"Corn flakes."

Tony raised an eyebrow, and turned towards the cabinets, beginning his first quest to Find Peter Food.Ⓡ 

"So you weren't just star-struck by Pepper?"

Peter blushed again, and black splotches returned to his vision with the shift in blood.

Tony continued, "And for dinner?"

Peter thought for a moment. He had, had lunch yesterday, but then there was the whole stabbing incident, the med-bay visit, and then Happy had dropped him off. He had forgotten to eat before bed in his excitement, talking with Ned.

Tony interrupted his thoughts: "What did you have for dinner?" He asked again, thinking maybe he didn't hear.

"Um, nothing?"

Tony turned to him, placing a plate filled with a Pop tart, a small bag of chips, a cheese stick, a banana, a pack of crackers, and a couple of Eggos in front of him. 

Peter looked at the interesting array of food; "do you always eat like a 12-year-old, Mr. Stark?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "This is to boost your blood glucose. The nutritive stuff will come next. Kid, look; _I_ just found out you have some super crazy hungry metabolism from the way you blew through those medications yesterday, but I know you're smart enough to have known. I'm not going to ask why you didn't say anything or why you didn't eat yesterday, but surely you know you have to keep eating more to keep up with what your body requires. You know that, right?"

Peter thought about how he'd started eating more, but he tried not to run Aunt May out of her budget. This wasn't the first time he'd been hungry, he was sad to admit. It was usually little snacks throughout the day that kept him going. He looked up, Mr. Stark was watching him. "I know." Too late. Mr. Stark had a similar expression on his face to when Peter'd said he wasn't in pain, yesterday; like he knew Peter was keeping something from him. Aunt May always said Peter was a bad liar.

Just then Tony's phone buzzed; it was a reminder message from Pepper, saying she was waiting for him. Tony silenced it and stuffed it back in his pocket. "I'm not leaving 'til you eat all that."

"Mr. Stark, please."

"Is it too much? Not enough? I was planning on a second serving of actual food, but I don't have to. Do you not like it? Are you allergic?"

"No, it's not that, the food's fine, really, and I don't have allergies anymore."

Tony considered what that meant for a second. He pulled up a stool anyways; "I'll just start work then, from here."

All of a sudden Pepper turned the corner, and smiled at him. "Hi Peter, sorry to interrupt."

"Hi Ms. Potts!"

"Please, call me Pepper." Peter swore he could _hear_ Tony's eyes roll this time.Peter decided he liked her. He'd seen on TV how people treated Mr. Stark weirdly, and Ms. Potts seemed like the kind of person who gave everyone an equal chance to prove who they were; she seemed honest with Mr. Stark, and didn't automatically treat Peter like a kid, which many adults do.

"As much as I'd hate to interrupt the first session of work you've voluntarily sat down to do, Tony, I need to discuss some things with you first."

Tony stood up, "I know." He looked back at Peter, pointing at him while continuing walking away. "You, eating as much as you want. There's food in there, and I promise I can get more if you eat it all. If there's something missing you'd like, just let me--"

"I'm good, Mr. Stark, thank you!"

Tony gave him a thumbs up, and Peter smiled until their backs were tuned. After the door closed, he could hear their voices fade as they walked away. "First of all, Tony, you don't have time for an intern. And where did you find him? He seems like a genuinely good kid."

Whatever Mr. Stark responded, Peter couldn't hear. They were out of range by the next time Pepper must have spoken, because Peter found himself accompanied by silence and food. He pulled out his phone as he began eating, more than excited to tell Ned about Tony Stark's Lab. 

**Peter:** NED ARE YOU THERE

**Ned:** OF COURSE

**Ned:** Where are you????

**Peter:** I got to work in TONY STARK'S LAB

**Peter:** like his actual workshop !!!!!! 

All of a sudden Peter's spider-sense alerted him to... someone? He looked up, and made eye contact with the big person standing still in the door. Peter didn't recognize him at first; probably because of the normal "street clothes" he was wearing. The guy obviously had no idea who Peter was, and was just standing there staring at him. Not that Peter was doing any different. But Peter spoke, quietly, as if amazed.

"You're the Winter Soldier."

The Winter Soldier shifted; Peter couldn't tell what he was thinking. Peter spoke again.

"I'm Peter. Do you need the kitchen? Do you want me to leave? I can go somewhere else. Or you can just come in, though you don't need my permission. I don't mind if you want to eat, I just hope I'm not in your way. I don't know where anything is but I could help you look if you want." Peter stared at the Winter Soldier. What was his name again? Peter remembered reading about him somewhere. Barnes, right? John. no James Barnes.

He just stood there for a minute, and they both stared at each other in silence; Peter was internally mad at himself for running his mouth. How typical Peter Parker of him.

Peter's stomach broke the silence, and he figured if Mr. Barnes wasn't going to do anything than he might as well continue eating, which he did. 

"I know."

Peter paused mid bite, and looked up, wondering what _that_ was supposed to mean. Then he explained himself.

"I heard Pepper call you Peter."

Peter paused, then nodded in understanding and continued eating his Pop tart. Mr. Barnes came further in the kitchen, actually in the room now, just on the other side. He was still facing Peter when he spoke again.

"I also heard Stark say you had an enhanced metabolism?" Peter froze. No one knew of his powers except Ned, Mr. Stark, and most recently Aunt May. He looked back at Mr. Barnes, clearly more fearful this time. Mr. Barnes could apparently pick up on it, though Peter knew he was probably easy to read.

"I won't tell anyone, if it's a secret." Peter didn't know what to say, so he just nodded to affirm the statement. Mr. Barnes nodded in return, shifting his stance again as if uncomfortable; his eyes wouldn't meet Peter's now, as if he felt out of place.

"I won't tell anyone," he repeated, "I just wanted to offer some help with the diet thing. I've got... a faster metabolism also. So I get it."

Peter nodded again, this time mad at himself for _not_ being able to come up with something to say. 

Mr. Barnes looked even more uncomfortable, which Peter thought was weird considering he was one of the coolest guys in existence. He couldn't wait to tell Ned.

"Do you... can I... may I offer some suggestions? I can make some samples too, if you'd like."

"You can cook?" Peter asked this before he thought about it; he mentally kicked himself again. The picture in his head of the Winter Soldier cooking initially just seemed funny to him.

But Mr. Barnes just smiled back, "more or less."

It ended up being more, as Mr. Barnes set some form of delicious smelling chicken in front of Peter not even 20 minutes later after having a discussion on vitamins, minerals, how one could take supplements but only if necessary; preferably one should eat a balanced diet, amplified to their body's needs. Peter was in awe of what was just placed in front of him; it smelled like how the food in magazines looked like they would.

"For example, chicken is a good source of protein, several of the vitamin B's, iron, and phosphorous," Bucky explained, concluding their discussion. Peter quickly placed his half-eaten bag of chips aside and dove into the chicken.

"Mr. Barnes this is amazing!" 

"Please call me Bucky."

"Bucky this is amazing!"

"Thank you. And if you eat slower, you'll have a better reading of when you actually get full."

Peter ate the second half of the meal slower than the first half. 

"Where'd you learn to cook?" he asked, after the plate was clean; he picked up the bag of crackers to continue his meal.

"Mostly from my mother." Bucky had taken a seat a few seats down from Peter after he'd made another serving for himself.

"Do you teach classes," Peter asked, "because you could." He ate the banana next.

"Nothing planned yet," Bucky replied, "but it seems someone may have to, for you. It actually is important to eat better than a twelve year old, like you said before. Especially if your body needs more than the average Guy. Which it definitely seems like yours does, considering it looks like you could probably give Steve a run for his money, just from what I've seen so far."

"Steve- Steve Rogers?" Peter traded the banana peel for an Eggo.

"The one and only." Peter was too interested in what Bucky was saying to see how fascinated Bucky was with what Peter was eating.

"Is Captain America here?" 

"Somewhere. But really, Peter, you should be eating an avocado rather than that break thing. It's just empty sugar, it won't fill you up nor give you _any_ essential nutrients."

"I don't like avocados."

"I'm sorry but you would - you just obviously haven't tried any I've prepared."

"Clearly not. But I'd be down." Peter smiled.

Just then he turned towards the door; he could hear footsteps approaching. It had been almost an hour since Mr. Stark had gone, so he figured they were his. Peter turned back to Bucky, only to find him on the other side of the counter already, putting his dishes in the sink. "I'll get those later," he said quietly, and was out the side door half a second before Mr. Stark opened the door. Peter didn't say anything, still confused by the sudden disappearance of Bucky. 

"Only on the Eggos, I see." Mr. Stark prompted as he entered the room, taking in Peter's plate. 

Peter smiled. Apparently not convincing enough. 

"Were they really that bad?" Mr. Stark looked hurt, "I can make something else."

"No, thanks. How was your meeting?"

"48 minutes longer than I prefer them." He turned, noticing the dishes in the sink. "Who else was in here?"

Peter paused, considering for just a second that he knew Bucky obviously hadn't wanted to see Mr. Stark. But he wasn't here now, and Peter didn't know see why not, so he answered truthfully. "Bucky came in and made some chicken." 

Mr. Stark kept his back turned on Peter for a couple seconds before turning back to him. He looked at the kitchen's side door, as if he knew that's where Bucky had come from. He walked over to it and slid the door shut.

Then, returning to Peter he asked (almost demanded), "what did he tell you?"

Peter shrugged. "He was nice. He talked about what I should be eating to maintain a healthy diet. He made extra chicken for me, too."

"He made you chicken."

"It was really good."

"Did he talk about anything else, maybe not concerning food?"

"No….... oh, only that Captain America is also here!"

"And..."

"No that's it. Did you know he was here? Is he not-illegal anymore?"

"Hm. I know."

Peter thought that was a weird response, but he didn't say anything else.

Mr. Stark looked at him, thoughtfully. "This is what my meetings have been about."

"That 'problem' you needed a distraction from?" 

"Hm."

Peter took that as a yes. He didn't know why Captain America and some of the other Avengers all of a sudden became fugitives, other than what had shown up on the news. But he was excited they were back. Apparently Mr. Stark, not so much.

"Can I help with anything?" Peter asked.

Tony was leaning on his elbows on the counter, facing Peter. He came out of his thoughts, and looked back at Peter again. 

"Just keep doin' what you're doing."

That didn't answer Peter's question, but he didn't push more.

"I'm sorry," Mr. Stark said. 

"What? Why?" Peter was really confused, now, but Mr. Stark again didn't answer him.

"I was thinking we could go back to the workshop for a few hours, then pick something up for Sunday dinner before I bring you home. How does that sound?"

"Sounds great!"

"Wonderful."

So that's what they did, this time free from any calls, AI, visitors, or hunger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for the kudos!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter; I have big plans, but no spoilers! :)


	5. I Hate Having a Weakness (but I won't give it up)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter returns to Stark Tower, but this time something changes.
> 
> Ew. Feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like this chapter! I've had a difficult week, so it took longer to write.

* * *

\- Day 4 -

* * *

Monday morning, Peter wakes up early. He takes initiative this time, eating a full, healthy breakfast for the first time since May's been gone. He actually feels accomplished and responsible for once, and he's not even Spider-Manning while doing it. He knows Ned probably won't be up for a few hours, so he heads out on patrol in the crisp morning sunshine and the fresh, chilly breeze.

He feels great all morning, mentally taking a note to thank Bucky, if he ever saw him again.

He swung around the neighborhood for a few hours, and mid-morning he helped some grocery store manager stop a guy in the parking lot who was trying to steal toilet paper. Peter couldn't wait to tell Ned about that. Not all the weirdness was bad, however; it seemed like it took a virus that put humanity at check to remind humanity they were all humans. He saw someone say something to a guy who was about to cut through a bike lock to steal a bike, successfully convincing him otherwise before Peter could even get down there; he saw some man grab a running purse thief by the arm, then take and return the lady's purse before just continuing on his way, leaving the lady to smile and shrug at Peter as he landed right next to her with no one to stop. At this rate, he thought, he'd have to move to part time.

In the early afternoon, he got a call from Mr. Stark.

"Hey kid, what's up?"

"Not much, I've just been hanging out."

"The sun brought up a nice day."

Peter wondered how long Mr. Stark had been up, in knowing that.

"You want to come by the tower?"

"Sure! Do I need to bring anything?"

"Just comfortable clothes; I thought we could try to finish those soft gloves you started yesterday."

Peter blinked, he didn't know Mr. Stark had even been paying attention to his project yesterday.

"Oh yeah, that'd be great."

"Great. See you in 10 minutes. FRIDAY will let you in." Mr. Stark hung up.

Peter felt weird, walking through Stark Tower's lobby, people looking at him curiously as he walked alone into an elevator and stayed on longer than the other few people. It was easy for Peter to forget that there were regular jobs at Stark Industries.

Apparently Mr. Stark was already in the workshop, because FRIDAY led him straight there. Peter could hear Mr. Stark's music as soon as he got on the floor; thankfully it softened when the workshop doors opened. "Hi Mr. Stark!"

"Hey, kiddo. Did you bring your suit?"

Peter smiled, his suit. "Yes sir!"

"Put 'er here, and don't call me sir."

"Yes si-- I mean okay." Peter placed his suit on the table.

"Now, show me your ideas."

Peter explained his ideas and showed how the design worked; next thing he knew, the hologram in front of him was becoming a reality.

"Alright, what's next?" Mr. Stark asked, approaching him after refilling his coffee.

Peter grinned, "I was thinking, what if I had these little thingies kinda like flame throwers, you know, because my web shooters aren't always ideal for when the fight gets up close and personal, so a little burst of fire..." he made a "fffffou" fire-y sound effect and motion coming from his wrist.

He hesitated, trying to get a read on Mr. Stark. His chin was resting on his fist, arms crossed. He looked skeptical. "Like flame throwers?"

Peter cleared his throat and went on. "...Yeah. Like flame throwers."

"How would they be different?"

"Well, technically they'd be the same, just on a smaller scale; oh and they'd be called 'Heat Yeeters' instead."

Mr. Stark slowly tried the words. "....Heat... ...Yeeters."

"Yeah."

Peter waited; he had no idea what was going through Mr. Stark's head. He kept his face as solemn as he could, which wasn't very.

Finally Mr. Stark spoke, taking a deep breath. "I'm gonna say no to your... heat yeeters, for now." he shook his head ever so little, "yeah, definitely not." Peter's face dropped. "But on a more serious note, do you really have trouble with hand-to-hand combat? I thought you generally left the Up-Close-And-Personal to us-- er -- to me."  
Peter shrugged. "Not often."

Mr. Stark nodded; "I didn't think so; but that also depends on how often you plan on having disasters like what we saw Saturday with your shoulder."

"That wasn't a disaster, I'm fine. Now."

Mr. Stark just gave him A Look.

Peter shrugged again. "I don't plan on any more of those."

"Good. Your suit should be done. Do you want to design your pizza while I run downstairs and pick it up?"

"Design my pizza?"

"Yeah, here." Mr. Stark slid over a StarkPad, where there was a make-your-own pizza page pulled up for a delivery order. "Go ahead and submit it when you're done, I've already put my order in."

"I have lunch at home, you didn't have to spend money on food for me," Peter protested.

Mr. Stark stood up to leave, "I think I can afford it; be right back. Oh, and I highly recommend NOT exploring the photo gallery," he smirked before he head out the door; Peter didn't plan on it.

_______

Twenty minutes later, they were both happily sitting and eating their pizzas; Peter didn't understand how it was only his second (conscious) day up here, yet here he was eating pizza in the kitchen of Stark-Frickin-Tower while talking with Tony-Fricken-Stark as if it were an normal thing to do. He knew if he ever thought anything here were normal, he could just talk to Ned and get a friendly reminder it wasn't. Peter appreciated his friend's honesty, if anything.

-

Tony felt even more out of place, if possible. He'd worked all morning for the second day in a row on problems that made even him want to vomit or cry or quit this life, run away, and obtain a new identity.

He knew he'd never do that, yet here he was, feeling like he had.

After his first two failures of days when he was supposed to be Peter's backup and wasn't, he'd told himself he was going to make it up; but he knew if he'd sent the kid a StarkPhone that, that would more than make up for it to the kid, so why had he decided to actually spend time with Peter? It's not like he'd reached out before except for when he needed him in Germany.

And now Germany had caught back up with him, coincidentally when the kid had, as well. Or was it a coincidence? He'd told the kid that he appreciated his company as a distraction. But that sounded heartless. His father had been heartless towards him. Lots of people thought Tony, too, was heartless; not Pepper though. Not Happy. Maybe not Steve, but let's not go down that path. And for some reason, definitely Not Peter. Is that why he'd invited him into his life?

Tony didn't know why, and it scared him. Why was this teenager sitting here talking about his nerdy math team. Why did Tony actually enjoy listening to him. Why did Tony wait this long to reach out to him, and why did he reach out at all. This was one of those times when Tony hated his act-first-feelings-later (if ever) personality. Since he didn't know the why, he returned to the what and focused back on what the kid was saying.

They were both distracted by Tony's phone letting out a ring, intruding through the silence he had set it on.

FRIDAY's voice spoke before the second ring, "sorry, Boss."

Tony chest tightened when he saw who was calling: Secretary Ross.

He looked back up at Peter, who appeared to sense the call was no good news.

"I'm sorry Pete, I gotta take this."

"It's alright, you're good."

_Of course it is and no I'm not._

"You want me to walk you out?" Tony suggested.

"I can't stay?"

"I don't know how long this call will last."

Peter shrugged. As if he anywhere to be.

The call ended, Peter noticed, frowning.

"Don't worry," Tony said, almost hateful, "he'll call back."

As if on cue the phone rang.

Tony gave in. "Okay."

Speaking quickly (Very-Angry-Ross was worse than Normal-Angry-Ross), he gave Peter instructions.

"Just stay here, got it? Don't move. Don't leave the room, no wandering." Peter nodded.

Tony left him, answering the phone before he'd exited the room. If Ross had called through his security measure, Tony was sure he was already frustrated from who knows how long he'd spent trying to reach Tony otherwise. It made Tony smile, though he knew it'd probably come back and bite him in about 3 seconds.

"Ross, oh how I haven't missed you."

Tony let Ross ramble while he left the area where Peter might overhear him.

"Tony," Ross began, reminding Tony how he hated when Ross called him by his first name. Or called him by any name. Or called him. "I've said this before, but I feel I need to repeat it, if the evidence isn't enough," Ross continued, "you need to control the mutants in New York City. The entire east coast is your next assignment, but I'm feeling nice." Tony scoffed. "I'm not joking, Stark. I'll come in if I have to; the west coast has been a good warm-up."

"What are you even talking about, 'control the mutants,'" Tony began, having reached a soundproof room at the end of the hall, "we cancelled the accords. And if you call these people 'mutants' again then I'll make you regret it. I promise." They both knew Tony kept his promises.

However, Ross laughed, signifying bad news.

"Yes, but you apparently didn't read all of what we replaced it with, so I'll be honored to inform you on what you will be doing." Tony pulled up the digital forms on a screen in front of him, ignoring Ross's power play.

"Even without the accords, we will be registering the... genetically enhanced individuals, under, oh, I don't know how it was written, but like a bar tab. I'm sure you understand that analogy well enough."

"I understand everything with any sense of logic behind it, which doesn't include you, so I'll in fact ask you to go on." Tony actually didn't follow, yet.

"Look, in simple terms, we need to have these individuals somehow register so they can individually hold some sort of responsibility, some "hero" standard to live up to. We can't just have some supervillain going around hurting people but getting away with it just because he or she claims they're doing it for the greater good or some awful reason. You're smart, I'm sure you can understand that, at the very least."

"Wow I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me." Tony didn't like where this was going; he understood it, yes, but did not like it.

Tony had learned the hard way that he needed Ross to talk, so he knew what his plans were, but he read because he didn't trust Ross to tell him everything; in fact, he knew he could trust Ross to leave out important details. So Tony sighed, sat down in a chair, and asked Ross to go on about the details while he read.

* * *

Peter had been about to begin the second half of his pizza when Bucky walked in, this time accompanied by someone. Peter half-dropped his phone on the counter when he recognized Hawkeye. He tried to play it off as just setting it down; if they noticed, the didn't say anything.

"Hey, Peter, Bucky told me about meeting you yesterday," Hawkeye began, and Peter was glad he'd already set down (dropped) his phone.

"He m-made me food," Peter replied. He knew his name!

"So I heard. I'm Clint. I was just hanging out and saw you might be in need of company." Peter followed his motion to the ceiling, not understanding. "There are... cameras?" Peter didn't see any.

Clint just smiled, "no. So how old are you, Peter?"

"Fifteen."

Clint nodded, turning back to Bucky. "I like him."

Bucky shrugged back, "told you you would."

Peter frowned, thinking. Mr. Stark hadn't seemed so keen on Peter having spoken with Bucky yesterday; would they be okay today? He didn't want to get Mr. Stark upset or Bucky and Clint in trouble.

"Mr. Stark just got a phone call," he explained.

"You call him 'Mr. Stark'?" Clint asked, puzzled; Bucky interrupted with a shrug and another question before Peter had a chance to answer.

"These phone calls can take a while. Have you eaten anything besides pizza today?"

Peter was proud to answer, "Yes, actually! I ate an early breakfast! which reminds me, thanks for the recommendation; I think it actually helped."

Bucky seemed pleased. "That's great! Just remember it's not so important when you eat breakfast as to what you break it with. Are you having anything else with lunch?"

"No."

"Do you need more with lunch?"

"I don't know."

What have you been doing all day?"

"I've just been busy."

"Working?

"Kind of."

"Do you come here for lunch to help budget?"

"No, there's plenty of food at home."

"Is there anyone else at home?"

"I live with my aunt." Peter was reminded of how he'd been interrogated by Mr. Stark yesterday. People here seemed to like to ask questions. But then again, so did Peter; maybe that's why they liked him, though he sort of doubted it, especially after how Bucky's questions were making him feel.

Clint chimed in then, ending the questioning; "c'mon, Bucky, give the kid some peace. Let him be with his secrets, Lord knows we have ours."

Peter frowned again; did they know he had a secret? Did they suspect what it was? Bucky already knew about his enhanced metabolism, and he didn't know how much he'd told Clint.

Bucky stopped asking questions though, and instead offered to make the promised guacamole. Peter relaxed again, excited for more food.

"You're gonna love it, and you better hope the others don't hear about it," Clint warned.

"The others?"

"Yeah, they fight for who gets to lick the bowl clean."

Peter looked at Bucky, who was focused on what he was doing or avoiding answering the question the way Peter'd meant it.

Clint was very friendly and comfortable around Peter, so the three of them made easy conversation. Peter didn't entirely know what Bucky's powers consisted of, but he wouldn't doubt that cooking was one of them after he set down a bowl of guacamole not 5 minutes later and a bag of tortilla corn chips. Peter placed the other half of his pizza on hold.

Peter tried it and was impressed, Bucky proved him wrong about his distaste for avocados, thankfully. "It's absolutely delicious!" He exclaimed.

"And kosher!" Bucky respond, "thanks!"

"Did you guys just recently moved into the tower?" Peter asked, changing the topic, "Mr. Stark seemed surprised to hear you came in here yesterday"

Peter noticed Bucky and Clint share a Look.

Clint answered for Bucky, "I don't know."

Bucky continued, quietly; "it's been difficult for all of us, being back. Tony included, probably more than he lets on."

"Honestly," Clint picks back up, "the reason he's doing better than we'd expected is probably because you're here with him."

Peter doesn't understand. Yeah, Mr. Stark had said he was a "distraction," but Peter hadn't been helping with anything. His confused thoughts must have shown on his face.

Bucky shrugged. "He's right to be mad," he said, "regardless of what was right in the past."

"Who and what is right and wrong now has different parameters than what was considered right and wrong for a different situation," Clint said.

Bucky shrugged. Peter was confused. He figured it had to do with the fight in Germany, just a few months ago.

They sat there in silence; Clint looked almost guilty; Bucky's emotions were unreadable. Peter sat confused.

Just then the door opened, surprising all three of them. Tony walked in, and his face hardened when he noticed the two men in the room.

"What the hell," was all he said.

They both sat frozen, waiting for Tony to make the next move.

Peter noticed the sudden tension in the room, but spoke up, "hi Mr. Stark!"

Mr. Stark attempted a smile. Peter wasn't able to read his eyes. Was it anger? Fear? Or something else?

"Peter. Let's go."

Peter stood up, turning towards Bucky as he did so. "Thanks again for the guacamole," he said quietly.

Bucky gave him a smile.

Peter followed Mr. Stark back down to the workshop, neither of them saying a word.

Mr. Stark finally spoke; "I don't trust them."

Peter didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't that. "Mr. Stark, it's okay."

"No," Mr. Stark turned to look at him. "I want you to know that it's them I don't trust, not you."

Peter considered this.

"What are you thinking?" Mr. Stark asked him.

Peter shrugged. "Just a thought from earlier today."

"Care to share?"

Peter shrugged. "Bucky just made me food. He was being nice."

The dark look reappeared on Mr. Stark's face. "You shouldn't trust him. I don't think you should spend time with him."

Peter still didn't understand; the other Avengers were back together. They were here. They'd made up. Right? "But he was just being nice. We were just hanging out. I don't understand. You and I hang out."

Mr. Stark shook his head; "this is different. I know you, and you know me. You don't know them. You shouldn't even be talking with them."

Peter felt anger flash within him; he took a breath. "I don't get it," he protested, "They don't even know my last name, much less that I'm Spider-Man. They were hanging out with me, me, and I liked hanging out with them; they're cool, too, like you. These past two days have been two of my favorite in a loong time, Mr. Stark; but I'm just a, a helpful distraction for you. They like me for me! It's not like we've hung out since Germany. You haven't even reached out since I-- well, Spider-Man, turned down becoming an Avenger."

Mr. Stark didn't reply right after. He looked hurt behind his confident stance -- Peter could see it in his eyes, and looked away.

Mr. Stark gave a deep sigh. He sounded sad - almost defensive, when he spoke, and softly at that. "Pete, there's a lot- I don't know. I don't know what to say. Or how to say it. I didn't know what to do." He shook his head. "I'm trying to listen better. Remember, you said I didn't listen. Well, I'm listening now. I knew what I wanted but I didn't know what to do nor if I could do it. Then your aunt left, and the opportunity was given to me. I'm here now to listen. The 'distraction' was an excuse for the... the mentor thing."

Peter had very rarely heard Mr. Stark talk about anything about himself. The only other time was, ironically, the same event that Mr. Stark had brought up.

If you died, I'd feel like that's on me. So that's how he'd felt.

Peter bit the inside of his lip. So this was a repeat of Mr. Stark trying to be overprotective of him, preventing him from doing something Peter felt was okay.

He looked back at Mr. Stark; "You can't tell me who I can or can't trust."

Mr. Stark stayed silent; Peter felt like he was watching him retreat, and felt immediate regret for having said what he'd said.

Mr. Stark finally broke the silence; "I'm trying to help you," he said, softly. "But you're right." He looked like he had something else he wanted to say, but he didn't. Instead, he turned away, muttering something to himself and typing on his phone.

Peter wanted to apologize, but he didn't know what to say.

The next thing he knew, Happy was knocking on the door. Peter opened it, and Happy looked at them expectantly; "you ready to go?"

Peter looked questioningly at Mr. Stark.

He shrugged; "don't worry, I just need some time to work on some things here."

Peter looked down. He couldn't believe what a disaster he'd caused.

He didn't say much to Happy. About halfway into their car ride to Peter's apartment, Happy spoke up.

"What's up, kid? I know it's been a while, but your usually more talkative than this."

Peter sat alone in the back, his head testing against the car door.

"I said some mean things to Mr. Stark."

"Did you mean them?"

"What?"

"I don't need to know what you told him, but did you mean what you said?"

Peter thought about it. "Not all of it."

"You wanna know what I think?"

"Don't see how it could hurt."

Happy shrugged. "I think you're similar enough to Tony to realize that he probably appreciates the honesty, but will also need you to explain what parts you did and didn't mean. He's a genius, but he doesn't know a lick about matters once they involve feelings. And don't tell him I told you that."

Peter didn't know how this situation involved feelings; he really did think he was there as a distraction, and that he'd been foolish to think Mr. Stark would have thought of him as an apprentice or mentee.

Happy drops him off, and he walks up the stairs to find another surprise waiting for him outside his apartment.

Mr. Stark himself.

He'd seen Peter walk up, and cleared his throat.

"You forgot this," he said, holding out a paper bag.

Peter took it, knowing his suit was inside. "Thank you."

They stood there, each of them not saying anything, until Peter spoke up.

"Mr. Stark I'm sorry--"

"No, kid. I'm sorry."

Tony looks at Peter, and notices the boy shiver.

"Might want to put on your suit so you can turn on your Seat Heaters," Tony tried to lighten the mood.

Peter didn't answer, instead replying by scowling and rolling his eyes while unlocking the apartment door. Tony saw Peter's poor attempt to hide the amusement in his eyes but didn't point it out, letting the kid hide his emotions.

"Here's the thing, kid. I don't do well with people leaving on a bad note, so I wanted to come clarify some things.

"You were right when I said I've got a lot on my plate -- I do. From personal backstabbers to annoyingly secretive wizards, ranging from our five boroughs to the world. And maybe beyond that," he added, noticing the kid shiver at backstabbers. "But none of that is for you to worry about."

"Can't the other Avengers help you?" Peter asked, of course trying to help.

"No. Besides, that's not why I'm here. You addressed my having called you a 'distraction' from said problems. Truth is, that probably is part of the reason I reached out to you. Finally. You gotta realize, kid, that I can't go back in time. I waited until you showed up injured at my tower before I actually invited you in. And that's on me.

"But I'm talking about now. And more than that, I'm talking about why.

"Everyone's got their own strengths and weaknesses, right? I mean, look at me. The entire world knows some of my biggest strength, and even you're probably aware of some of my oldest weaknesses. But I'm beginning to suspect that one's strengths and weaknesses may change with a person."

"Like how I changed when I got my powers?" Peter asked.

"Something like that."

"So, if you know your weaknesses, can't the other Avengers help you with them?"

"I wish," Tony sighed; "that's the thing, Peter. You shouldn't let people into the areas of your life you can't protect, especially if it's something or someone worth protecting."

Tony could see Peter considering this, the gears turning in his head as he chewed the information.

Peter didn't understand where Tony was coming from, because from his perspective, that was exactly where you should put a batch of Earth's Mightiest Heroes.

"I'm sorry, I still don't see how this connects to me."

Tony looked Peter in the eye, and with all seriousness said, "I just want you to know that you're not a problem for me, nor a solution. I just like having you around, teaching you stuff. You're a smart kid."

Peter looked down, swallowing down his feelings in an attempt to not tear up.

"I'm sorry," Peter repeated.

"No, I'm sorry, I should have done a lot of things better, and not just in the past two days. I'd also liked it if you wanted to stop by tomorrow at some point."

Peter smiled; "that'd be great."

"Perfect." Tony stood up. "Thanks, kid."

"For what?"

Tony shrugged, "for talking. Take care."

And with that, Tony was gone.

Peter stood there with the bag in his hand and looked around the apartment. It seemed so much lonelier than it would have been had he come back and been alone.

He wished he could be transported into one of his aunt's warm hugs, the ones that wordlessly told him everything was going to be alright.

Peter laughed to himself and deducted he was starting to get lonely, not from lack of interaction but from missing his aunt's affectionate personality. Maybe family is the weakness I'm not willing to give up, he thought, before grabbing a snack and heading to his room to call Ned.

The drive back to the tower gave Tony a lot of time to think about some things he'd been avoiding, such as: Why did Tony reach out to the kid?

He suspected it was Tony liked Peter. Peter was such a likeable kid, so willing to learn, and Tony felt he could teach him what he wanted to know. And it's not like Peter was the only one benefiting from this ideal mentor/mentee relationship Tony imagined; Tony, in just three short days, had not only learned so much about himself, but also enjoyed himself. It was actually nice having a younger person around.

He himself had once had a mentor; he reflected on Obadiah-- who turned out to be an back-stabbing (technically front-attacking) traitor-- but before those days, he remembered how Tony had looked up to him.

Whatever his mentor had done, that was the way to do it. What they said, was gold.

They were unstoppable. Magical. Miracles.

He couldn't remember the first time that awe-filled trust had been broken, probably sometime early by his father, but he remembered every time someone had broken it since.

His parents dying.

Obadiah taking Tony's life.

Steve almost doing the same.

Almost.

And now he was that person to someone, which was why he wanted to spend time with Peter, but also why he didn't. Part of him wanted to make plans to sign the future company over to Peter, but part of him wanted to follow that familiar urge to run and hide and change his identity and lose all the influence, authority, and liabilities he had acquired.

He'd asked for the responsibility of protecting a planet and had been handed real, live people instead. Who would have thought?

He determined to be the mentor his had failed to be.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you notice when Tony finally called Peter, "Peter" ?! Oh looky, tomorrow's Day 5!
> 
> I hoped you enjoyed it! More to come!
> 
> Thanks for all support! Kudos, comments, shares, or just taking the time to read :) I appreciate it all!
> 
> Again, feel free to reach out! I started a Marvel Fic Writers Readers group chat on Tumblr, so feel free to reach out if you're interested. Tumblr @ UniverseMarvel


	6. Oops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part of the Journey is... the Journey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's to another day "together" !

* * *

\- Day 5 -

* * *

The next morning, Peter slept in. His phone call with May had lasted hours after his and Ned's had. Yes, everything was good, but he missed her. They talked about a lot of nothing, until he felt bad for keeping her up late and let her go. He then lied in the living room, watching whichever sitcom came on TV, early into the morning hours until he fell asleep on the couch.

He woke up late, ate breakfast, and wandered around the apartment completing mindless tasks in his pj's until he got hungry for lunch. 

After he'd eaten a lunch consisting of a variety of random food groups, he sat in his chair and stared at the wall, deep in thought, until he snapped out of it and woke up.

He checked his phone, which was charging after his late night phone call, and saw a text from Mr. Stark. And it wasn't even an emergency.

**Mr. Stark!:** Care to swing by?

**Peter:** Yes! I'll be there in an hour!

He figured he could swing the long way around the city, maybe help some people out on the way.

Twenty minutes later he was hanging out downtown; the day had been slow, probably because it was just early afternoon. 

After a car alarm had brought him to some streets he wasn't as familiar with, he decided to look around and help this side of town out a little. He had about 45 minutes, anyway, plenty of time to make it to Stark Tower after a bit of exploring. 

He was sitting on top of a hotel when his Spider-sense alerted him to a problem below. He crept down the side of the hotel, spotting the people who were alarming him about halfway down. There were two people, as far as he could see, crouched over something he couldn't see yet.

He slowly crept down, trying to get a good look at whatever they were doing before he disrupted, them, if needed.

They were holding some sort of light, or hologram, he saw as he got closer. It wasn't Stark Tech, though he couldn't see anything they were holding. Actually, it must have been on the ground because he could see both their hands. 

A few stops closer and he could see that the hologram was showing several maps, one of the city, one of the globe. And one more of something he couldn't make out, like a galaxy thing that resembles a super-complex molecular compound or something. 

Suddenly, they turned and looked up to him; it took him by surprise, as he hadn't made a sound yet and hadn't been in their line of vision. Their heads and faces were covered by a mask thing, and they were wearing weird robes for clothes. The word that popped into his head was _wizards._

One reached their arm up towards him and grabbed the empty space in front of them, clenching their fist and pulling towards them. 

Whatever they did, did something to the air around Peter. The space surrounding him suddenly wrapped tight around him and pulled down, causing him to drop to the ground.

He caught himself with one hand on a fire escape before dropping the rest of the way, turning towards them, anticipating a fight but prepared to run. He didn't want to fight a wizard, and there were _two_ of them!

He had one mission in mind: Get to Mr. Stark.

All of a sudden, Wizard #1 reached out again and sent some sort of orange sparks his way; he easily dodged it and continued backing up. But as he turned back towards them, Wizard #2 sent sparks at the brick wall. 

This confused Peter, especially when Wizard #2 walked into the brick wall. or _through_ it, more like it, since he disappeared. Was it a teleportation device? Or magic?

The distraction was enough, though, and Wizard #1 sent another stream of sparks-things towards him. What was weird was that his spider-sense hadn't warned him, at all.

He turned away from it but too late, and it hit his shoulder nonetheless, knocking him backwards.

Oops.

He stumbled on something, and fell back, reaching out to catch himself. His Spider-sense must have kicked in because everything slowed down a bit the way it sometimes does -- except for the wizards. Wizard #1 (the one still here) looked at him before following #2 through the hotel wall.

Peter reached back to catch himself on the ground but must have miscalculated because it didn't come when he was expecting it. It felt weird, like he fell through the same space twice, and finally hit the ground. 

_That was weird,_ he thought, and ran to the spot the wizards had been. There was no sign they'd been there. He looked for a hologram device but found nothing. 

He did a quick self-check-up, and couldn't find anything wrong. He felt fine, his senses were fine, even his shoulder where he'd been hit was fine; so if it wasn't an attack move, it must have been for defense.

 _That was cool_ , he thought, _to slow down a fall so they could get away_. He wondered if he and Mr. Stark could look into something like that.

Mr. Stark! He _had_ to tell Mr. Stark about the wizards! He'd mentioned wizards yesterday, and this could be what he was talking about.

After double-checking the spot for anything they may have left behind and taking note of the street names at that intersection, he headed out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's fine Everything's fine.


	7. Spidey's Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spidey's Back... but he wasn't gone. So what's wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!

* * *

\-- Day 5 (continued) --

* * *

Peter swung back to the part of the city he was familiar with and headed for Stark Tower. 

"Woo-hoo, Spidey's back!" Someone shouted from below, and Peter smiled, though it didn't really make sense.

He just _had_ to get to Mr. Stark, who knew where the wizards were by now! To be honest, he hadn't really thought much when Mr. Stark had mentioned them; he kind of figured " _wizard_ " was just an exaggeration for an evil street magician or something.

He arrived at the tower, and hoped that he wouldn't be interrupting something by showing up 20 minutes earlier than he'd said he would.

He went in the side door like before, since he was wearing his suit, and didn't take off the mask until he was in the elevator. He really needed to ask if he could keep a change of clothes in the tower if he was really going to be stopping by more often. 

"FRIDAY, where's Mr. Stark?" Peter asked the air above him.

FRIDAY paused before answering, "I am taking you upstairs where Happy Hogan is waiting to meet you."

"Thanks FRIDAY;" he was okay waiting with Happy, though he knew Happy was probably not looking forward to it as much. Maybe Happy could help him find regular clothes while they waited for Mr. Stark.

The elevator doors open, and Peter walks out onto a floor he hasn't been on yet. He took a few steps forward, taking in a nice, open room with more couches and fewer windows than where he's been before with the med bay, kitchen, and workshop.

He heard a noise and turned to find Happy, standing and staring at him with an undiscernible expression on his face. Peter expected it to probably morph to annoyance anytime now.

"Hey Happy, have you seen Mr. Stark?"

Happy's face twisted to something resembling confusion; he didn't answer, so Peter went on.

"I was just patrolling on my way over and went by a different part of the city and there were these two wizard guys! I don't know if they were actually wizards, but Mr. Stark had mentioned wizards yesterday so I think it might be these guys."

"Really?" Happy started walking towards Peter, looking like he wasn't actually listening to or interested in what Peter was saying.

"Yeah. They were looking at a hologram thingy so I got closer and they shot these spark things at me, one hit me but it wasn't hot.

"Peter." Happy still looked concerned. And pale.

"No really I'm okay! I just really need to talk to Mr. Stark."

"Peter," Happy repeated. 

Peter stopped and looked at him. He couldn't read Happy's paled expression, but all of a sudden got a sinking feeling in his stomach that told him he wasn't going to see Mr. Stark. He probably forgot, or more likely had more important stuff to do. 

Peter wiped the disappointed look off his face and responded, "if he's busy I can come back. He asked me to come by almost an hour ago but wasn't expecting me for another ten or fifteen minutes. I can wait!"

Happy still didn't respond, and Peter got a little worried. Did something happen? Did he miss a message from Mr. Stark? 

He glanced at his phone to see that he'd gotten no new messages. Happy was still looking at him -- no, staring at him.

When Happy spoke next, something about it caused Peter's blood too run cold. "Peter?"

"Happy," he replied, "is Mr. Stark okay?"

Happy's eyebrows drew together, and he pulled out his phone, whispering, "yeah, kid," and dialed a number.

Peter waited, now more bewildered than anything. He swallowed the sudden panic he felt rising in his chest, reassuring himself it was an unwarranted reaction. He was fine, Mr. Stark was fine. So what was wrong with Happy? Was this just a head-of-security thing? Maybe Mr. Stark had asked not to be bothered or something.

Just then the line connected, he heard Mr. Stark's voice answer " _Happy."_ But then Happy tapped on an earpiece, preventing Peter from hearing the other half of the conversation like he was used to doing with Happy or anyone's phone calls (not that he meant to). The earpiece must be new, Peter didn't remember seeing it before.

"Hi, uh, yeah, it was... FRIDAY was right... Yes, here, with me. uh-huh. I don't know."

Peter may have just been told that Mr. Stark was okay, but the cold, aching look Peter saw in Happy's eyes just then told him the exact opposite.

"Alright, see you then. I won't." Happy hung up the phone and turned back to Peter.

They stared at each other for a few moments, and for the second time that day Peter felt like time was moving in slow motion. Peter looked at Happy, daring him to break the silence with a truthful explanation. All he received in return was that same, pained expression.

He _hated_ this feeling that he was not being told something, being left out, being excluded from a secret about him.

The unexplained, intense moment was broken when the elevator door opened and they both turned to see Mr. Stark enter. Peter took in his appearance, looking for something signifying what was wrong. As far as Peter could tell from his appearance, everything was fine.

But his behavior caused Peter to frown. 

Mr. Stark wordlessly walked right by Peter with another weird expression that said a lot, though it took Peter a second to name: _distrust_. 

Peter now had no idea what was going on. Had he done something? There must have been a miscommunication. He just needed to figure out what caused it.

"Mr. Stark--" he began,

"Uh-uh," Mr. Stark cut him off. "Question. Do you know today's date?"

Peter became even more confused, but he said the date anyways. "Mr. Stark I--"

Mr. Stark held up his hand, stopping him. "Where did you come here from?"

Peter sighed, "my apartment. I was on my way here when--"

"Please," Mr. Stark interrupted again, and this time Peter felt some heat; "are you okay?"

Peter was taken aback even more. What was going on? "Yes, except you keep interrupting me!"

Mr. Stark looked him up and down. "You look thin, have you been eating?"

Peter looked down at himself, as if expecting something to have changed in the past two minutes.

"I'm fine, we literally had this discussion yesterday. Are _you_ okay??"

Mr. Stark looked like he didn't want to answer that, and he apparently didn't, as he skipped the question; "let's go to the med bay."

"Again?" Mr. Stark and Happy shared A Look, and Peter went on. "Look, what's going on? I'm fine. You literally told me I could come here like an hour ago. Want to see the texts?" Peter pulled out his phone, ready to show proof.

Mr. Stark actually looked interested in this, and practically snatched the phone from Peter's hand. He turned it over, curiously, looking at the make and model before trying to unlock it with his own thumb. Peter laughed silently, then reached out and touched the keypad for him. 

Something was very, very wrong.

Mr. Stark read through the extremely short conversation between them, then opened his contact information. He then pocketed the phone.

"Hey--" Peter protested.

"Med Bay. Now." Tony turned and walked away, leaving Happy to follow Peter out.

Peter could see Mr. Stark on his phone, but he didn't give any more attention to Peter on the way, so Peter turned to Happy instead.

"I don't understand what's going on," he said irritably. 

Happy shrugged; "me neither, kid." Peter noticed Mr. Stark turn to give Happy a quick Glance.

Peter shook his head. "No, really, why are we going to the med bay?"

All he got was a shrug from Happy.

"Why did he take my phone?"

Another shrug.

"Why do you both look so worried?"

No answer this time.

"Did I do something wrong?"

No answer. 

They progressed in silence down to the medical hall, where familiar sight prompted Peter to speak again. He couldn't _stand_ this uncertainty, and made sure Mr. Stark could hear.

"I left the apartment early so I could get some patrolling done on the way. You said to ' _swing over,'_ so I thought that was okay. I didn't get much done, and I showed up to the Tower early just because there were these two weird wizard guys I saw that I wanted to tell _you_ about," he said, motioning to Mr. Stark;

Peter was having to take faster steps to keep up with the two men and hated the awkwardly fast speed. "I swear that's all that happened. Oh and some guy yelled 'Spidey's back' or something which didn't make sense because I was only gone for like 15 minutes."

Mr. Stark stopped, causing Peter to run into him.

He quickly jumped back, embarrassed. Mr. Stark just looked at him strangely and opened the door to his left, "we have arrived at our destination," he announced in mock grandeur.

Peter walked in ahead of him, stopping abruptly at the sight. Mr. Stark almost ran into him, but the sight that met him was too important for him to notice. 

The room was definitely med-bay, but cooler, like a smaller version of the workshop, but with more medical-based tools and supplies than what he'd seen either of the times he'd been in the workshop. There was a medical reclining chair for a patient, and several more comfy chairs pushed back against the walls. There were diagrams of different weapons on the walls right next to diagrams of human anatomy. 

It was like a science lab and a doctor's office had a baby.

The light was on, because someone had gotten there before him. It must have been dusty because there was a guy wiping down the counter beneath an illumination suspended in midair. 

He did a double-take on the person in the room, taking only a quick moment before he recognized him.

"Dr. Bruce Banner?" he asked, in awe, and continued slowly into the room, Mr. Stark and Happy trailing behind him.

"Why didn't we use this room the other day?" he asked, and turned back to Mr. Stark, who just shook his head while wearing a Very Bewildered look.

Dr. Banner looked nervous, more than anything, but at least he greeted Peter like a normal human being.

"Hi, Peter," his eyes didn't quite stay with Peter's, and he wasn't sure if Dr. Banner was nervous about something of if it was just his mannerism. "Take a seat," Dr. Banner motioned to the patient's chair in the center of the room, next to the table. 

Peter obeyed; Happy went to sit in one of the comfy chairs along the wall; Tony went and stood behind the table, his face hidden from Peter's sight behind the floating holographic illustration. 

Dr. Banner began his assessment, or something of the sort; Peter obliged, still confused. It was Dr. Banner, after all. A Dr. Banner who knew his name.

"You know my name?" He asked, incredulously.

Dr. Banner smiled, "yes, Tony told me you were coming. Please excuse the dust, it's been s while since we've used this room."

Peter leaned forward so he could make eye contact with Mr. Stark, and he pointed up at Dr. Banner. Mr. Stark shrugged his shoulders. _That's Doctor Banner_ , Peter mouthed silently. Mr. Stark just nodded in affirmation, though Peter thought he caught a ghost of a smile on his face.

"Dr. Banner," he repeated.

Dr. Banner looked at him again, as if mentally rethinking something. He took a step back and leaned against the table of which Mr. Stark was on the other side. 

He hesitated before answering Peter's question. "Yes, That's me." Then, "May I ask, what do you remember about me?"

Peter squirmed in his seat from excitement. "Well, I've read all of your work, I'm particularly interested in your research on gene splicing and mutation through conjoining."

Dr. Banner nodded, folding his arms. "And how recent was this?"

Peter shrugged. "I- I don't know, just over the past few years, I guess."

Dr. Banner nodded, like that was what he'd expected. "And can you remember what you've been doing more recently, say, over the past couple months?"

Peter furrowed his brow. What kind of question was that?

"Um, yeah. Just... normal stuff. School, spending time with my aunt, decathlon practice, hanging out with my friends."

"Ned and MJ?" Mr. Stark's voice startled him; he wondered how he knew their names, but nodded.

"Mostly Ned, outside of school." 

Mr. Stark nodded and looked away again.

Peter held on to Mr. Stark's attention, but when it left he turned back to Dr. Banner.

"And then there's a new virus so the hospital called my aunt in to work full time, but this time she had to stay away for two weeks. She works as-"

"-A nurse," Dr. Banner supplied, "Yes I remember."

This confused Peter even more, but he went on; "Yeah, that's why she contacted Mr. Stark. And why I've spent the last two days at the Tower, not counting the day I was in the med bay." He smiled. 

Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner gave no initial reaction.

"And why were you in the med bay?" Dr. Banner asked.

Peter grinned, sheepishly, "I sorta got stabbed."

Dr. Banner looked worried, but nodded.

Peter looked over at Mr. Stark, and his smiled faded from his face. Mr. Stark was shaking his head, as if disappointed.

 _That_ was _it_. Peter snapped. He stood up and walked to face Mr. Stark, who kept his eyes down.

"What?!" he asked sharply, "what is it? What's your problem? Do you not remember? Am I crazy? Did I do something wrong? I mean, it must've been bad, you brought in _Dr. Bruce Banner_ for goodness sake! None of this is making any sense, so please, am I not okay? Dr. Banner am I crazy?"

"No," Mr. Stark finally spoke and looked up.

He stood and confronted Peter.

"No," he repeated;

"You're dead."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> : ) 
> 
> What do you think?!?


	8. I Hate Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where did the dead come from?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm home in Quarantine, writing because it distracts me from, well, me.  
> So this fic should get updated quickly enough, which is good!  
> My piano and basketball skills are also updating quickly, as I run out of things to do.  
> Does anyone know of any goo

Peter laughed. 

It was a joke, right? He wasn't dead.

He was here. Alive.

But Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner weren't laughing.

He wasn't dead, right? He hesitated. He didn't know Dr. Banner at all, and he didn't know Mr. Stark that well, but a prank definitely seemed out of character. _If_ it was a joke.

"Wait, what?" He asked, looking back and forth between them, "I don't get it."

"That's the thing, Peter," Dr. Banner spoke this time, "neither do we. You shouldn't be here, but you just walked in."

Peter noticed his arms had begun to shake, and crossed his arms to hide them. He actually felt like he was going crazy.

He went over the day's timeline in his head:

Wake up. Watch TV. Eat. More TV. He took apart a computer keyboard in his room. Then just sat in bed and did nothing for a while. He'd eaten lunch. Then seen the text and left. 

"I mean, what's the actual date then?" He asked, deciding that would be the easiest way to figure out where and when exactly his personal history went wrong.

"You've got the date right," Happy said, causing Peter to jump; he'd forgotten he was here, "I mean, you know what today is." 

"Then I don't understand," Peter said quietly, shaking his head, "I know where I've been up until now. I mean, I was here just yesterday."

"Do you remember having met me?" Dr. Banner asked.

Peter looked at him, extremely confused, "No sir."

"Not even once within the past five months?"

Five months. What was five months ago? "No, I would have remembered."

Dr. Banner smiled, but his eyes were still sad; "I believe you."

Peter looked quizzically at him; what did Dr. Banner know about him?

"Happy," Mr. Stark addressed the man, "Can you go work on the list I just sent you?"

Happy got up and left the room, giving Peter another interested but depressed look before leaving.

Peter watched him go, then turned back to Mr. Stark.

Mr. Stark, who was just sitting there typing away on his phone or the fancy hologram keyboard when he isn't staring at Peter like he's crazy and lying rather than caring that he feels like he's being pranked or drugged or something and his life is a lie and what is real? He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down and focus; _focus on what?_ What _was_ real?

"Mr. Stark, please, I feel..." he motioned to his head like he was mind-blown, "I don't know. I don't like this, Mr. Stark, what's going on?"

Mr. Stark shook his head and sounded sharp when he spoke, pushing Peter back. "Look, maybe you don't like this, but trust me, it's worse for us. You died a month ago!"

Peter looked exasperated, "But I was here yesterday!"

"No!" Tony replied, almost yelling, "I... _We_ buried you a month ago. There was a funeral. There was... _you_. It was real, I know it was real." He pointed to the screen, where Peter saw his own face smiling back to him on what looked like an obituary page, reading just enough to confirm that was what it was before his eyes blurred too much to read any further.

Peter shook his head, unable to process what Mr. Stark was saying, still trying to vouch for his reality; "Mr. Stark, _please_ ," he begged, the tears filling his eyes now despite his effort to keep them away, to swallow the hurt that was accompanying this confusion and denial of what was being told to him; "I was-- just yesterday.... You texted..."

And then he was surrounded and enveloped in the arms of his mentor, and he clung on, held back, and searched for reassurance in the physical representation of someone he obviously didn't know.

But he _did_ know Mr. Stark, and this wasn't... this wasn't him. Mr. Stark didn't hug. He pushed away, wiping his eyes, and looked up at the Mr. Stark who returned his gaze, full of distress and sadness. 

He took a few steps back, almost distrustfully, and looked between Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner again. None of this made sense to him.

He had to be dreaming.

Or drugged; maybe it was a hallucination, and he was kidnapped somewhere.

Maybe it was a simulation where you face your fears.

He felt his back touch a wall, and realized he must have continued walking backwards. His vision went spotty, then dark.

He reached up and covered his eyes. Maybe this meant he was waking up again, and everything would be fine. He hoped for what he knew wasn't true.

He followed the wall down until he reached the floor.

He stayed there, just sitting, his head buried in his arms, resting on his knees, until the persistent pounding of thoughts and emotions returned to a dull drumming.

He opened his eyes to see Mr. Stark sitting next to him, looking patiently at his hands. He looked up to where Dr. Banner had taken a spot on the computer, typing away at something Peter didn't bother to find out.

He sniffed, and asked quietly, so Mr. Stark could hear, "where did Happy go?"

Mr. Stark raised his head to look at him and gave a comforting smile, "I sent him to get a friend. I have a theory. Have you met my wizard friend Dr. Stephen Strange?"

Peter shook his head, "though you did say you had a problem with wizards."

Tony shrugged, "I'm not surprised I do. I remember you'd said something about wizards, though, which is why I wanted to get him involved. Before we both go crazy here."

A small smile finally made its way to Peter's face, a victory in Tony's eyes; "so there really are wizards in New York? Doing magic and everything?"

Tony smiled again, but looked away; "I'm sure it's all just unexplained science, but yes." he keept going, quietly, "There are wizards in New York, doing ' _magic'_ and everything." He included air quotes around "magic."

Peter rested his head against the wall behind him; "Cool," he whispered.

He wondered what else he'd missed. "How's Aunt May?"

Mr. Stark mirrored Peter, resting his head back against the wall. "Not the best, since you've been gone. Don't tell her I know that, though; she's strong and keeps up this appearance and still comes to visit like we used to. Honestly I don't know who gets more out of it, her or I. I like to think of it as our therapy time with Pepper."

Peter half smiled, but the dots didn't connect; they had never come to visit. Had Aunt May actually visited Stark Tower without telling Peter?

His thoughts were interrupted by a shower of sparks coming from a point midair in the middle of the room, some of them reaching him as the point turned into a line, then a curve, then a circle. The sparks weren't hot, Peter noted, similar to the ones he'd been "shot at" and hit with.

He stood up abruptly, Mr. Stark joining him. Peter backed up, standing in between Mr. Stark and the sparks, when all of a sudden a tall man walked through. He was wearing weird robe things, also like the wizard people from the alleyway, but he wasn't one of them. Peter clenched his fists, but otherwise waited.

The man entered the room, and Peter looked past him to see where he'd come from. He saw another man, also dressed in robes, and was surprised to see Happy in the circle. He was worried at first, but Happy just waved when he caught sight of him, and Peter awkwardly waved back. Happy saw Tony and made a gesture, mouthing ' _I'm gonna go around,'_ and stepped out of Peter's line of vision.

Peter turned his focus back to the wizard-man, who was already looking down at him.

"Peter Parker," Wizard-Man stated, and Peter sighed; another stranger who knew his name. Wizard-Man kept his super-observant-looking gaze on Peter making him feel uncomfortable more than anything.

"Strange," Tony said from behind Peter, and stepped to Peter's side.

"Stark." Of _course_ Mr. Stark and Wizard-Man --er-- _Stephen_ , knew each other. Peter crossed his arms, feeling extremely out of place, out of the loop, and out of his mind. 

"Did you get a blood sample?" Wizard-Stephen went on, eyes on Peter but not speaking to him.

"No," Mr. Stark replied.

Wizard-Stephen finally shifted his gaze from Peter to Mr. Stark; "then I suggest we obtain one."

Peter could practically feel Mr. Stark roll his eyes. "And _I_ suggest you slow down. Does the kid even remember you?"

Peter felt all eyes return to him and he shifted his stance. No one said anything to him, but the question was out there. He looked down and slightly shook his head, no.

"Strange, this is Peter. Peter, this is that wizard I mentioned, earlier,"

"I'm a Master of the Mystic Arts," the Master-of-the-Mystic-Arts murmured, and Peter decided _wizard_ was much easier than that mouthful.

Mr. Stark continued his introduction, "Dr. Strange." Mr. Stark acted and sounded all fine and dandy now, compared to the emotion he'd shown earlier; Peter couldn't hide his as well.

Peter's voice was almost a whisper, his eyes still on the floor; "nice to meet you."

"Likewise." Strange's voice sounded judgmental. Peter wondered if that was his just voice or not; Dr. Strange addressed Mr. Stark again, "Now, the sooner we obtain the blood sample, the quicker we can determine if the theory which celled me here holds true. Peter, if you could please take a seat, I'll get the supplies."

Dr. Strange walked around the table to the medical cabinet, and Mr. Stark returned with Peter to the patient's chair. Mr. Stark resumed their private conversation again.

"You get used to him. He's a little forthright, intrusive even, sometimes; it must be a wizard thing."

Peter noticed Dr. Strange threw them an annoyed look, but didn't say anything, and Mr. Stark went on.

"Anyhow, would you prefer Dr. Banner draw the sample? I know you don't like needles." 

Peter's eyes scrunched in confusion. Mr. Stark knew he didn't like needles? Even Peter wasn't sure where he stood with needles... he tried to remember the last time he'd been given a shot. When he was 10, maybe 11 years old? Before his spider bite. Sure, he hated them _then_ , but Why and How would Mr. Stark know about that?

Peter just shrugged; "I d-don't care," he stammered. Honestly, the fact that these people knew more about him than they should bothered him more than the needles. He _definitely_ knew something wasn't lined up now, because even _he_ didn't know he was apparently afraid of needles. 

Dr. Banner ended up drawing his blood (Mr. Stark decided based off of Peter's reaction), and Peter guessed that from the way Dr. Banner acted like he _expected_ Peter to act, do, and say everything he did throughout the process that he'd probably had his blood taken by Dr. Banner before. 

They gave the tubes to Dr. Strange, and Peter didn't know if he did a regular-doctor or a wizard-strange test on it, but he came back not 10 minutes later with a verdict.

"Peter," he said, finally talking to him like an actual human being; "you _are_ Peter Parker." Peter let out the breath he'd been holding in a disbelieving laugh; who did they think he was? Only then did he notice how nervous Mr. Stark looked. He looked at Dr. Banner, who looked worried. Peter sombered up, and looked back at Dr. Strange. Apparently it wasn't a joke; now he expected a ' _but_.' Sure enough, the doctor delivered.

"but," Dr. Strange went on, "you're from a different universe."

Peter looked at Mr. Stark, and addressed his question to him, "like a different reality?"

Mr. Stark looked at Dr. Strange for the answer, but Peter, kept his eyes on Mr. Stark.

"Precisely," Dr. Strange answered. 

"A parallel universe?" Peter answered, sounding almost excited.

"Yes." Strange's answer sounded more like a warning. 

Mr. Stark looked sick. Dr. Banner looked sad. Dr. Strange just looked at him; Peter couldn't read his expression.

"So..." Peter prompted him, asking for more of an explanation. He didn't see how this was bad. He got here, they could send him home. They had his blood sample.

"So what?" Dr. Strange replied, "So you're here now."

Peter nodded. This was awesome. He just needed to understand why it _wasn't_ awesome.

Peter shrugged to indicate he didn't understand; "so you can send me home?"

"If only. You see, the multiverse isn't like that;" he waved his hands in a weird intricate design which Peter thought looked like a TikTok dance, and a hologram appeared in midair.

An intricate design that resembled a web or a galaxy.

Just like the one he'd seen by the wizards in the alleyway. 

Upon closer inspection, however, he could see what would have been the stars moving like an ocean current.

"These specks," Dr. Strange pointed to the moving Not-Stars, "are realities. We, are here." One of the realities glowed a bright green. "You could be from any of the others."

Peter looked at the billions of Not-Stars, the realities, and wondered which one was his. 

"So, there's no way to find it?" He asked, and he felt a knot form in his throat. He hadn't said goodbye, much less prepared for one. He had to get back. 

"Not necessarily," Dr. Strange rested a hand on Peter's shoulder; he'd seen the panic growing in his eyes.

Peter had to get home. "So how then?!" 

Peter watched the green glowing reality he was stuck in sink within the wave of realities, and he felt his rising hope wash away with it.

Dr. Strange waved a hand, and the multiverse-jello morphed so that the green reality was centered on top; "what I can do for you is send a signal and hope your Master of the Mystic Arts of watching."

Peter nodded, taking it in, trying to figure out how much he _should_ let his hopes get up before he found them too high. A fearful thought occurred to him.

"But I don't even know you!" He exclaimed, "in my universe, I haven't met you!"

Dr. Strange exhibited the first emotion since Peter'd met him: doubt.

"That's what I feared."

So that's why it wasn't awesome.

They both stared at each other for a few moments in silence. Peter hated that there was a chance. Now he'd be stuck on hope. A not-quite-impossible hope. He tasted blood, which alerted him that he'd been biting the side of his cheek: a bad nervous habit.

The silence was broken when the door opened and Happy walked in.

"So, what's the verdict?" He asked.

"Kid's from a parallel universe," Mr. Stark answered, and stood up and walked towards Happy at the door; "he isn't ours." And without another word, Mr. Stark left them.

Dr. Strange watched him leave, then turned to Dr. Banner, who'd been listening quietly by the computer; "I'll go see what I can learn about this," Dr. Strange said, whooshing away the hologram, "and begin doing what I can do." He created another circle of sparks and exited through it, leaving the three of them alone.

Dr. Banner still didn't say a word, so Peter looked at Happy, expectantly.

Happy looked at Peter, but this time like he didn't know him; Happy took in his appearance as if noticing him for the first time. 

For a second, Peter lost all hope as he was afraid he'd lost Happy, too. But then Happy did what he did best: stay focused on his assignment. 

"Well, Peter, do you want to change into some comfortable clothes?"

Peter nodded, knowing that if he spoke then that he'd start crying. 

"It was nice to meet you, Peter," Dr. Banner said, and Peter just nodded, and got off the chair to follow Happy out. 

There was so much he wanted to say; so much he wanted to ask. Really, he just wanted to be home.

"I think he just missed you," Happy said, interrupting his thoughts.

The out of context comment surprised Peter; "what?" 

"Tony," he explained, "he misses you. I think he was... hoping."

Peter understood. He'd felt the same way growing up.

Wanting someone who was gone. Wanting something that couldn't be gotten. Hoping for something he knew was impossible. I dreaded the thought that this may be another one of those situations.

But Peter never wanted to hurt Mr. Stark, and the realization that he had hit him like a punch in the gut.

He couldn't swallow the knot this time, and choked up a sob in the hallway outside the med bay.

He wasn't even embarrassed when Happy wrapped him in another tearful hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? I'm open to feedback, ideas, and constructive criticism!
> 
> I'll be here (as if I had a choice). I'm home in Quarantine, writing because it distracts me from, well, me. So this fic should get updated quickly enough, which is good! My piano and basketball skills are also updating quickly, as I run out of things to do.  
> Anyone have any #QuarantineLife recommendations as we live life #AloneTogether? 
> 
> Or, do you have any recommendations for this fic? I'll be writing more often while in quarantine, is there anything specific you are hoping to see as this story progresses?


	9. Something's Missing.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People are either Missing or Being Missed. Finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** and the story takes an unsteady, shaky breath before the next wave **

Happy opened a door after leading Peter downstairs and down another unfamiliar hallway.

"Well," Happy turned the light on, "your room," he announced.

Peter nodded and walked in.

"Need anything?" Peter shook his head.

Happy hesitated, obviously unsure of what to say.

"We'll figure this out," he promised, though it sounded empty to both of them; "We've got Tony. Strange. Bruce Banner. That's a trio, right there," Happy chuckled to himself, "and they've got you."

Peter just nodded, holding back another wave of tears.

Happy mirrored him, nodding, and sensing the close in conversation.

"Sleep well," he said, and shut the door behind him.

Peter looked around the room. He did not have a room in _his_ reality's Stark Tower.

He observed the math pun posters on the wall with little interest. He noted the Lego Star Wars sets on top of the dresser, one even in progress. He saw a notebook on the desk with _Peter Parker_ written across the center in his handwriting. Dead him. No- _Not_ him. The thought made him shudder.

This wasn't his room.

The perfectly made bed was the only evidence that somebody had actually touched the room since this world's Peter had been here.

He felt like he was intruding in someone else's room.

This wasn't his. It technically wasn't even for _him_.

He turned the light back off. He didn't want to be here, but even more so he didn't want to leave, so he sat on the bed and leaned on the wall behind it.

He didn't need anything. He didn't know how to call someone even if he did.

Four nights of falling asleep in an empty apartment did not prepare him for how alone he felt that night as he silently cried himself to sleep. 

* * *

\-- (earlier) Day 5 --

* * *

What Happened to Peter?

Tony waited until after lunch to text the kid, to give him time to sleep in or do homework or go on patrol or do whatever the teen did on a Tuesday morning. 

**Tony:** Care to swing by?

**Underoos:** Yes! I'll be there in an hour!

Tony hadn't slept much at all that night. He hadn't really been sleeping much at all since his favorite backstabbing liars had decided to move in (but that's just his opinion). The paperwork was easy. A hassle, but easy. The legal bumps were no problem. Even the government visitors were cooperative enough to get things done. 

The stress, however, was a monster of its own. The mental toll made its presence known through restlessness, a decrease in productivity, and an increase in sleepless nights. He often found himself looking over or being startled easily by noises or someone's entrance in a way that he hadn't been since, well, since back _then_. 

His escape was, again similar to back _then_ , found his workshop. This was one of the only places he felt he could find refuge from the ever-growing intrusive thoughts and memories he'd never been given a chance to look at and deal with. 

Peter, as it turns out, was one of the only people in his life that helped him look forward; maybe it was because of when the kid had entered his life. Maybe it was because he knew less than the others. Maybe because the kid looked up to him so much.

Who knew.

Regardless of why, the kid (don't tell him) was one of two people besides Tony that could enter the workshop whenever they wanted (don't tell him). That way FRIDAY could just let him in without having to ask every time. He could always change it later, if he needed to for whatever reason.

Tony was again lost on a project; it had been a while since he'd texted Peter. He checked the time. Peter had said he was going to be here over an hour ago. 

Sure, the kid might've run into a hiccup, but it wasn't like him to be this late. 

"FRIDAY, is Peter here?" Maybe he got lost. Improbable, but maybe. He was talking about a curious teenager.

"Peter Parker is not on the premises." Tony sighed, and debated whether he should make an effort to act responsibly or not. He lost. 

He called Peter's cell, seeing if he'd answer, but it went straight to voicemail. He called again, this time patching it straight through to the suit. 

The call cut off without ever connecting. 

He sighed, and left his project to go to the computer. "FRIDAY, track his suit."

A buffering symbol showed on the screen before the city's map appeared before him, no red dot to signal a location. 

"Unable to track the suit," FRIDAY's voice confirmed. 

"Try again."

"I just did."

Tony called Peter again, this time leaving a message. 

"Hey, kid, I'll probably see you in a minute, but this the obligatory call-to-make-sure-you're-alive call. Just call when you can and I'll let you know where to find me when you get here. See ya."

There wasn't a reason to worry, right? It had only been an hour. _He'd_ stayed out an hour past curfew, before. He'd stayed out _days_ past curfew. It had only been an hour. Maybe the kid forgot. He seemed to be pretty distractible, right? Oh, and also conveniently turned off the suit's tracker. Again. 

This is probably the universe's payback to him after what he'd put his father through. Not that this was in any way relatable to a father/son thing, at all.

He told himself that Peter had forgotten, and went back to his project. He kept the scanners running for any sign of Peter, and pretended like being brushed off didn't hurt as much as it did.

He waited for another two hours and three phone calls before he actually admitted he was worried. Peter was generally too excited about these things to disappear for three hours when he had plans set and without sending a message.

He walked out of the workshop, unknowingly towards some of the most stressful and frustrating days he's had in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos and feedback!! <3 I love it!
> 
> Would you be interested in hearing more of Tony's side of the story?  
> And as for Peter's new universe... Would you be interested in hearing *that* Tony's perspective/thought process on things? Otherwise I can keep it from Peter's POV.  
> Please let me know your thoughts (& any feedback!) :)  
> Stay safe, healthy, and tuned for more! <3 (cuz it'sa coming!)


	10. Still Gone, and it's Not Your Ghost.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talking with ghosts or deja vu? Turns out there's a difference.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *His* Peter is dead; here's some Tony.

* * *

Day 5 (continued)

* * *

It was times like this that made Tony hate the universe. Here he'd just dealt with the kid dying -- he can't say he'd gotten _over_ it, not by a long shot -- but he'd dealt with it. Got what he could out of his system and accepted the rest that'd he'd have to carry the rest of his life.

He'd done the best he could; he'd given his Peter the best tech, the newest systems, the safest defense he had.

His Peter had found a second home with the Avengers; if he'd had trouble fitting Spider-Man into the life of Peter Parker before, then he'd solved those problems when he joined the Avengers. 

Well, technically, his kid had officially _turned down_ the opportunity to be a member of the team, but he'd still found a way to join regardless. 

It was like family.

A few months of family, and it had taken Tony too long to accept it for what it was - Even with Steve Rogers insisting that's what it was all along.

He supposed he'd been slow to accept it because of fear. After all, he'd learned the hard way time and time again that something you had was something to lose, and sometimes having something wasn't worth the trouble of the hurt caused from losing it.

Turns out, his Peter _had_ been worth the trouble.

And looking back now, he wished he had more hurt from the memories than guilt from not making them.

He told himself he had done his best; but if the guilt wasn't a loud enough contradiction, then the living boy that had walked off the elevator today set it in stone. 

So, very obviously, Tony had failed.

And now he had unintentionally taken Peter away from a family who still had him.

Sitting in his lab, he was faced with temptations that he hadn't felt in a long time - years, even. 

He let his mind wander to the expensive wine cooler in the wall, the transparent glass door revealing shelves that had been replaced with a certain teenager's favorite sodas and chocolates.

In fact, he wondered if there were any alcoholic drinks on the floors people inhabited. None that he knew of, anyways. Maybe on the lower floors for office parties. Oh well, that was too much effort.

He didn't get much further when a tapping noise drew his attention to the door. 

Clint Barton had never once made his way to the lab, despite months of living at the Tower, causing Tony to wonder how much the rest of the team -- the damn _family_ , knew.

He wasn't quite sure he wanted to open up his private refuge to Clint just yet, so he decided to meet him at the door. On the way, a reference popped into his head from one of those dorky movies Peter had had everybody watch.

Something had happened in the movie with Master-of-the-Mystic-Arts Dumbledore (insert annoyed sigh from Stephen here), that the incident that had occurred was "a complete secret. So naturally the whole school knew." Or something along those lines.

That's how Tony felt with this situation and the team. Turns out he wasn't far off.

He didn't say anything when he opened the door, knowing he'd find out quicker if he let Clint talk.

"So. Um, yeah." Clint began, which told Tony he knew everything.

Tony rolled his eyes and opened the door, motioning to a seat. If Clint was here, he guessed the other members had all split up to look for him.

Another stupid thing families do, he supposed. 

They sat down; Tony didn't have anything to say on the matter, but if Clint wasn't going to talk first then Tony sure didn't want to give him what he wanted. No one had that easy of access to Tony Stark's feelings on difficult matters.

Not anymore, anyway.

"Finishing your tour of the Tower, I see. Took you, what, four years to make it to my favorite room?" Tony asked his rhetorical question with his usual owns-the-world attitude.

Clint knew what it was; "Tony," he prompted.

"Or maybe it's just the first time you've made your non-air-vent rounds. May I be the first to introduce you to the floor."

"Tony," Clint prompted again.

Tony refused to break first, so he threw the conversation ball back to Clint; "Would you like me to go on?"

There were unspoken rules to conversing with Tony; the team had lived in the Tower long enough to figure many of them out, something that had helped the team overall, in practically every aspect; it helped Clint know now that this was both Tony giving him a chance, as well as his last chance to speak before Tony kicked him out of the lab.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Tony paused, taking it in, trying to find how this unexpected variable fit into the equation.

He couldn't. "For what?"

Clint took a breath, figuring out what to say; he wasn't as good at putting words together as, say Captain America, but he'd found Tony so it was up to him. He went with what he had.

"I... I couldn't imagine... losing a kid..."

With just a glance, Tony's look dared him to go on, warning that he was entering dangerous territory. 

Clint held his train of thought together with another sigh, and kept going.

"I couldn't. Honestly, Tony. You know me and my family. I couldn't take it like... like... well, you know. Like you." 

Tony remained silent, and Clint knew he was too far to go back now, so he finished his thought.

"I know you're not a parent in the sense of how I'm a parent, but Peter was your kid. And if he's really back from a different universe - whatever the hell that means - then that's messed up."

Tony rolled his eyes, but Clint went on.

"Not in a bad way, but more in a way I can't imagine because I can't even imagine losing any member of my family.

"Because I love them."

Tony covered his face with one of his hands, hiding whatever emotion he was wearing or processing.

Clint spoke again, "I just want to let you know, kinda from one dad to another," Tony shook his head here, "that I'm here for you. We all are. And we don't want to lose you too."

Tony finally spoke; "Well, I'll be here," he said nonchalantly. 

Coming from Tony, Clint knew he'd scored a victory. He didn't know whether that meant "here" as in this specific room, or a figurative "here" as in he'd stay alive. Both were okay in his book, and he counted the absence of yelling and mockery as a win, so he stood up, nodded (mostly to himself), stretched his arms, and wandered towards the door, looking around at the room's contents. 

The fact that Tony didn't insert another witty comment as he slowly made his way out told him that he'd need to ask Cap to check on him later. But he figured Tony was good for the time being, so he left to catch the team up. 

The conversation, though short, had given Tony a lot to think about, so he stayed undisturbed in the lab for a few hours before making his way upstairs. He didn't know what time it was but guessed it was probably near midnight, if not after.

He'd ended up in another of his favorite rooms: the kitchen. The kitchen had been through a few "minor" upgrades in the past year, making it more of a community style pantry that opened up to a spacious communal-type living room.

The living room was full of nice couches, fancy tables, a big television, and a lot of memories. 

The kitchen was full of enough food to feed an army - which it basically did on a daily basis, between Steve, Bucky, and the rest of the gang. Maybe not as much junk food as when Peter was here, though some of his favorites were left over due to no one else wanting them.

Peter. 

Tony checked his watch-less wrist out of a recently-broken habit-- This kid Peter hadn't eaten.

He'd gotten here early afternoon and it had been, how long? Probably going on twelve hours.

Tony sighed, and made his way to the fridge.

* * *

Peter shot upright in his bed. 

He'd been sound asleep, but something... something woke him. A noise?

His eyes adjusted, and after a moment of confusion he remembered where he was. He wasn't alone in the apartment, which is why the noise had initially scared him so much. 

Not that being in this unknown room helped him feel any better. He controlled his breathing until his blood stopped running cold. 

Someone knocked quietly on his door: that's what had woken him.

He got up slowly and cracked opened the door, his half-asleep body squinting profusely due to the light coming from the hallway behind...

"Mr. Stark?"

"Kid, you gotta be kidding. Are you really still wearing your suit?"

Peter groggily looked down at himself and took his attire in. "Yes." 

Mr. Stark rolled his eyes and easily pushed open the door. "Come here."

Peter blindly turned and stumbled behind him into the room, where Mr. Stark was making a racket opening drawers. Before Peter could process what Mr. Stark was doing, he shoved clothes into his arms.

"Put these on and meet me in the kitchen." Mr. Stark made his way out the door.

Peter eyed the clock.

It read 2:17 a.m..

"Wait," Peter asked, his voice still hoarse; Mr. Stark paused.

"Where's the kitchen?"

It was a serious question, but Mr. Stark just laughed; "you must've skipped lunch, too."

Mr. Stark left and shut the door.

Peter scrunched his face, trying to figure out how that answered his question. He stood there for a moment before doing as instructed.

"These" ended up being pj's in the form of a math pun and some plaid pj pants. Something like he'd probably get at home, but they still didn't feel like his.

Once dressed, he walked out of the room. He looked left and right, down a symmetrical hallway, trying to remember if he'd seen which way Mr. Stark had come from. 

The hall down the right seemed brighter, so he went that way. 

He wandered down the hallway, wishing there were signs, and afraid to try any closed door. At the end of the hall he took a right. He figured he'd end up at an elevator at some point. Unless there was a kitchen behind one of these doors. He realized he actually had no idea where he was going, so he stopped where he was.

He had no way to contact anyone, since his phone was still taken, but he wondered if (and hoped that) this Mr. Stark had the same AI voice system as his Mr. Stark.

He hoarsely whispered into the air around him: " _FRIDAY?_ "

He flinched as the air spoke back, in FRIDAY's friendly AI voice:

"Hello, Peter. It seems you are heading for the kitchen; would you like me to guide you there?"

Peter whispered back, "yes please."

__

Peter walked into the kitchen, finally, now a little more awake than normal. Waking up in the middle of the night is very different than staying up this late, he decided. 

He greeted the man with a mumbled, "hi-mist'r-stark."

Tony rolled his eyes before turning to look at him. Were they really still on 'Mister-Stark' terms?

And damn, he looked just like him. Like Peter. Only less muscle-y. Tony would have to focus on remembering who he was talking to.

Mr. Stark finally looked up when Peter got to the counter; "You _do_ know why you're tired, right?" Mr. Stark greeted back.

Peter just stared at him; "because it's two-thirty in the morning?"

Mr. Stark just stared back, trying to decide the extent of Peter's sarcasm vs. how much he reallly knew. 

"I'm sorry I forgot to feed you."

Peter processed this, processing what Mr. Stark was saying; "No-- it's okay," he said, "I forgot too."

They just stared at each other; Peter didn't know what was going on. Tony was starting to suspect why this kid was so thin. 

Peter yawned.

Tony remembered what FRIDAY had told him.

"Did you really need directions to the kitchen?" Tony asked Peter.

Peter nodded, confused. What did Mr. Stark think? It was his first night here.

Tony just stared at Peter, who yawned again, and took a seat on a stool.

Tony stared at him like he was analyzing his every move.

He was.

That wasn't Peter's seat. Had the kid really never been in this kitchen? Where did he make his food at? Maybe there was a kitchen in the lab, so the kid didn't have to take as many lengthy breaks. 

That's a pretty good idea, actually.

Well, for Tony's use, that is.

A timer dinged, and Tony turned away from Peter.

Peter was too tired to be curious, but he was definitely awakened when Mr. Stark turned back around with the weirdest combination he had ever seen.

It was some sort of breakfast sandwich: Two pancakes sandwiching a scrambled egg. Mr. Stark had even made a smiley face on top with strawberries and blueberries.

He was snapped out his... - is admiration the right word? - well, his admiration, when Mr. Stark nearly slammed a jar of syrup next to him, causing Peter to jump.

"Don't tell me you've never met Breakfast Man."

Peter just stared -- unsure which was more interesting: the food combo in front of him or the man who'd made it. What. The. Heck.

Mr. Stark shook his head and sighed dramatically; "I have failed you. Well, a version of me has. You have _no_ idea what you've been missing."

Peter half-dissected the meal, looking at the handiwork. Yes, admiration was definitely the right word.

Tony watched as Peter began to eat the food, first looking a little hesitant (Tony didn't care if it was peer-pressure) and then he apparently seemed to like it (who would have thought). 

That or the hunger finally kicked in.

"So," Tony began, as Peter took another mouthful. "First you don't know how to get to the kitchen. Then you don't know about Breakfast Man. Who _you_ named, by the way. My vote was on 'Gerald.' But most importantly, why did you have _this_ on you?" 

He pulled out Peter's phone, and the battered phone and cracked screen looked out of place in Tony Stark's hand. 

Peter again looked confused at his question, causing Tony to realize he should probably take it another notch back in his mental timeline.

"I mean, you _have_ a StarkPhone, right?"

Peter, looking confused as ever, slowly shook his head; "my phone works fine," he said.

Tony scoffed. "Yes, that's what you say. Then I look at you skeptically, then you protest again, Then I get you the phone anyways. I mean, we're on the same timeline, so what gives."

Peter just stared at him.

"I mean, do you hate me or something? Well, _your_ version of me?"

Peter almost jumped out of his chair, and he needn't have given his protests at all for Tony to believe him.

" _No_ Mr. Stark I _swear_ I don't hate you at all! You've been _nothing_ but good to me _!"_

Yada yada, Tony waved him to stop. _Nothing but good._

Yeah, right.

Look at his life. Look at.... nevermind.

Yet he believed _his_ Peter would still claim the same thing, if he were still around to say so.

"Okay," Tony went on, "does he... do I... dislike _you_?" 

"No, I don't think so."

"Why would you think not."

"You showed me your workshop!" 

"I... showed it to you?" 

"Yeah! And we worked on a project for a couple days!"

"A couple days."

"And you texted me!"

Tony leaned back against the countertop behind him and rubbed a hand down his face. 

He wished he could have a few words with himself. He needed to take better care of this kid. Well, Other Tony needed to.

"And you made me food! Like this!"

Tony looked up, skepticism written on his features as Peter went on with his pathetic list. 

"You said you didn't know Breakfast Man."

"No not, not Breakfast Man, it was... a bunch of other stuff."

"I see."

"And it was during the day, of course." 

"Of course," he echoed. 

"And you ordered pizza the next day."

"I see."

He raised an eyebrow. "And the other days?" 

Peter stammered, "uh-m well, there haven't really been other days. Yet."

Tony pursed his lips; "I see."

He didn't see.

What he _did_ see was a hungry kid who didn't know enough about his Own Family. 

The kid had finished the meal, looking more like himself now (assuming himself meant looking like a scrawny version of his Peter), and the clock read about 3 am, signaling time to wrap up.

Yes, Tony had actually begun implementing a bedtime for himself; structure was a form of control he could have when he couldn't control other things. 

Things like people dying on him. Or appearing again from alternate universes. 

"Alright, kiddo," he said, interrupting his thought process, "bedtime." 

Peter looked at the clock, frustrated, obviously not as excited about going back to bed now that he had some form of nutritious energy in his body. 

But Tony's face held its seriousness, so Peter stood up. 

"Remember how to get back to your room?" He jested, but Peter didn't seem to catch on. 

"Yes, Mr. Stark."

"Am I really 'Mr. Stark' to you?"

He was met again with more confused silence.

So with a sigh, he went on: "alrighty then, let's go." 

The kid seemed surprised that Tony was accompanying him back. 

Should he be? Maybe he was being too nice. This was probably weird for Peter, having another Mr. Stark leading him around.

If his Mr. Stark even brought him anywhere.

He accompanied him back downstairs, neither of them saying a word until they got back to the room.

"Night, Underoos," he said, opening the door for him.

Then with a quick " _Goodnight Mr. Stark!_ " the kid had slid under his arm and into the room, already closing the door behind him.

It's not that Tony really _expected a hug_ , but, he did. 

He didn't know he'd been Pavlov's Dogged until he waited there, feeling like he was missing something important. Something he needed.

He snapped himself out of it. He _had_ to focus. That _wasn't_ Peter on the other side of this door.

Neither owed the other nothing.

But for some reason, Tony knew he'd give it all to get the kid home safely.

And if he knew anything about Peter Parker, it's that the kid was a hugger. He'd learned that early, early on, and as such, screamed at him that something wasn't right here. 

It hurt, seeing this ghost of his kid. A ghost who resembled the real thing all too well. This ghost who was sitting in his room overthinking things in a way Tony understood all too well.

It was like living in a world of déjà vu, except last time it had ended poorly for Peter.

As much as he wanted to barge in a solve all the kid's problems right here and now, Tony figured he probably inundated the kid enough for one night, and decided that that was a _tomorrow_ problem to take on. 

And with that, Tony headed to bed, reminding himself that Peter was still gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!  
> Thank you for all your support, it keeps me writing!!


	11. Never Gonna Give You Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good morning, new reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you imagine a good-old sloppy bed head, the chapter's that much better.

* * *

Day 6 - Multiverse Day 1

* * *

Peter woke up the next morning, not in a rush to go the zero places he had to go that day. The only thing on his mind was _getting home_. 

He actually looked through the dresser and picked out an outfit; it was basically something he'd wear at home, only newer looking. And probably a lot more expensive.

He walked out of his room before he realized he only knew how to get to one place, so he made his way to the kitchen. There'd be food there, anyhow, and he could probably call Mr. Stark via FRIDAY if he didn't eventually show up.

He entered the kitchen, not quite processing that there were other voices until he heard them stop.

He turned towards the couches he hadn't noticed during his visit last night, and immediately wished he'd at least looked in the mirror or fixed his bed head.

He found himself staring at the Avengers - and them staring back. 

He quickly spotted Bucky and Clint - those two he'd met at home, but there was also the one he knew just from the media-- Black Widow, Captain America, the Falcon guy, the Scarlett Witch, Colonel Rhodes ( _is he an Avenger??_ ), and the red guy who could fly - Peter couldn't remember his name. 

They had stopped talking when they noticed him, and he had paused a second later, when _he'd_ noticed _them_. 

No one spoke, initially, though Peter heard someone - maybe Falcon guy - mutter " _woah"_ under his breath. 

Peter felt his cheeks turn red and looked down to hide his embarrassment; he felt like... like he wasn't an actual person or something. 

The door to the kitchen opened just then and Dr. Banner walked in, closer to Peter than the others. Peter decided Dr. Banner was officially one of his favorite human beings when he greeted him, " _Good morning Peter_ ," before turning to the others. He must have sensed the tension in the room or something because he seemed to know what was going on.

"Everyone, as I'm sure you all know, this is Peter Parker from another dimension. Peter, meet our dimension's Avengers." Peter knew Dr. Banner wasn't trying to be funny, but he had to stifle a laugh anyways as he gave a little wave to "everyone."

Whatever he did seemed to break the spell, and the team started into life again. Clint caught his eye and smiled; Peter lowered his eyes, reminding himself he didn't know _this_ Clint.

Then Captain America spoke up, his voice kinder than his reputation (well, his counterpart's reputation); "Hi, Peter. I'm Steve. You hungry for breakfast?"

Peter had to force his words to work, yet his sentence was still choppy. He hoped his starstruck-ness would be attributed to having just woken up or something. "Y-yes, I was just going to-into the kitchen;" he gave himself a mental facepalm.

Steve just smiled kindly and walked into the kitchen area with him. He opened the refrigerator, generating a protest from Peter: "No, you don't have to-- I can make something!" 

Steve just turned back towards him, the egg carton already in his hands. "Nonsense," he replied, "you don't know where anything is."

Peter shrugged, desperate for an excuse, "well, how am I going to learn for the future?"

Steve just placed a pan on the stove. "Let's hope it won't be coming to that."

Peter accepted that, refusing to contradict the optimism. 

He caught himself wondering if Steve was actually an optimist or if he was using a strategy he knew would work on Peter based off of _his_ counterpart. 

Regardless, he _would_ be home soon. He _had_ to get home.

He sat on the same stool from the night before, and watched _Captain America_ make him breakfast. He still felt embarrassed, but his next impulse was to text Ned.

He actually reached for his phone before he realized it still hadn't been returned to him, and he wouldn't have reached _his_ friend Ned anyways if he did.

"Peter," Dr. Banner called to him from the couch, "Tony's in the other room there, while Steve's cooking, you can go let him know you're up." He pointed to the door from which he'd just entered; "it's just down the hall and make a right."

Peter followed his finger, catching a quick Look pass over Steve's face as he turned. But it was gone before he could process what it meant, and Steve just smiled.

"They won't eat it before you get back," he joked.

"No promises," he recognized Bucky's joking voice this time.

Peter smirked and nodded, and made his way to and out the door.

"I wanted to talk to him," he heard a muffled Steve say once the door was closed.

Peter knew this conversation wasn't for him to hear, but he couldn't help it. Well, he _could,_ but he didn't. He stayed put by the door, nothing but the empty hallway in front of him as a witness.

He could hear the others begin talking to each other about him.

" _That was... whoo. Weird."_

_"He looks just like him!"_

_"They're the same person, idiot."_

_"This one looks smaller, younger even."_

_"Ours looked that way before we started training him"_

_"Yeah, and Tony calculated that ultra-personalized-mega-diet."_

_"He wasn't_ that _small."_

_"He very nearly was. Our Peter experienced 5 months of living with us, which would be_ this _Peter_ minus _6 months."_ That was Dr. Banner's voice.

_"So this Peter doesn't live with us?"_

_"As far as I can tell, no."_

No one said anything after that, so Peter continued down the short hallway ahead of him and made a right, leading into a well-lit, open room. 

Mr. Stark was working with his back towards him on some machine with a lot of switches, numbers, and dials; Peter's curiosity immediately got the better of him. 

"What's that?" He asked.

Mr. Stark jumped and turned towards him, rubbing his hand on his arm where he'd just apparently hit it. "Dang, kid, I forgot how quiet you are. I like the hair."

Peter hadn't really noticed how much noise he did or didn't make; "sorry," he said, while he tried his best to flatten his hair.

"No, don't be sorry," Mr. Stark corrected himself, "I just forgot. You're good."

Peter repeated his question, looking at the machine; "What's that?"

Mr. Stark looked at the machine almost as if he were confused himself.

"It's something I made for your phone. You see," he opened a section of the machine and pulled out Peter's phone, "your phone has zero connection. No data signal at all. It won't connect to a hotspot, not even to the wifi!" 

Peter wasn't catching the drift. He knew it wasn't a StarkPhone, but it did it's job fine. "And?"

Mr. Stark looked at him; "I don't think you get it. This phone's waves don't connect to the signal here. They don't match up, or something. That's what I was trying to figure out."

Peter nodded; that _was_ weird. It was also weird that it was deemed so important. "Why?"

"Because," Mr. Stark handed the phone to Peter, "I want to make sure that it's just a singular fluke. And that it doesn't apply to you." 

Peter's face scrunched up in confusion. "But... I don't need to connect to any... signal."

Tony smiled, "let's hope not. I just wanted to know if I needed to keep an eye out for a glitch." He rubbed Peter's head, messing up Peter's attempt to calm the nest of a knot.

Peter smiled and backed up; he wasn't used to... whatever this was. He held out his hand, offering the phone back, but Tony turned it down. "You can take it back, now. How would you say you feel overall though?"

Peter shrugged. He felt fine. "Just hungry; Steve's making breakfast." He turned to walk next to Mr. Stark as they left the room and walked back down the hall.

Tony scrunched his eyebrows together and gasped, pretending to be offended: "I see how it is, you're on a first name basis with _Captain America_ , but _Iron Man_ gets the formal treatment?"

"Well I can't go calling him 'Mr. Rogers,' can I?"

And with a laugh, they re-entered the kitchen together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a big exam this week so it might slow down my writing. I wanted to make sure to get this chapter out to you, which is why it's on the short side. It'll pick back up at this scene, though!  
> I apologize in advance for the delay in getting my upcoming chapter out!   
> Thank you for any feedback! You all are amazing!!


	12. Never Gonna Let You Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where is Peter's place in a place he doesn't belong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note:  
> AN ACTUAL UPDATE! I'm studying for the NCLEX, but thought I could progress the story little by little as I do so. Makes for a nice study break. I am so happy you're liking the story so far and really hope you enjoy this chapter!

Chapter 12: Never Gonna Let You Down

* * *

\- Day 6 - Multiverse Day 1 (continued) -

* * *

Peter returned to the biggest plate of scrambled eggs he'd ever seen in his life, which Steve promptly set in front of him.

Steve turned to get him a fork from the drawer, and Peter opened his mouth to comment, but Steve spoke first, his friendly tone interrupting Peter's thoughts.

"So, Peter, what's your impression of the Tower so far? I know you haven't seen much yet, but have you got any advice for us here?"

Peter grinned, "I love it so far! The med bay here is awesome, it's got its own mini-lab thing that the one in my universe's Stark Tower didn't have! I haven't really been anywhere else yet. But the bedroom I stayed in here is pretty cool."

Peter thought his summary was short and clear, but he was bombarded by a short-lived silence, cut off by a wave of questions.

"You haven't been anywhere else in the building?" (Clint asked this question.)

"Tony hasn't set up your med-lab?" (That was Dr. Banner.)

"Tony hasn't given you a room?" (Asked by Steve.)

Peter shook his head in response to each of the questions, not really having a chance to speak.

"I'm sorry," Natasha said, and everyone quieted down to listen to her, "but did you say 'Stark Tower'?"

Everyone shifted their gaze to Tony, who just shrugged. "Has a nice ring to it," he joked, but Peter thought he could spot some other emotion on Mr. Starks face. He just wished he could interpret it.

"Anything you'd like to tell us?" Natasha prompted in a joking manner.

Tony shrugged. "I don't know what other-me's been through. And just remember before you comment, that's real for Peter here."

The questions and comments ceased after that, and Peter finishes his plate in what he feels is an uncomfortable silence. He doesn't know why he feels so guilty, but feels like he said something wrong.

For a moment, he tried to piece together the kind of life his counterpart had lived here; he'd had the entirety of the Avengers team as friends; he apparently had his own room in Stark - no, the Avengers Tower; and he and Mr. Stark seemed to be a lot closer than what Peter knew. Out of all that, the last part made him feel jealous of his other self. They were on the same timeline, and his Mr. Stark had ignored him while these two were probably working in the lab together and making pancakes.

The two days he'd spent with Mr. Stark at home was probably only a glimpse of what this Peter's life was like on a more regular basis. What had Peter been doing wrong? Maybe this Mr. Stark was correct in thinking that his counterpart didn't like Peter. But on second thought, Peter wasn't sure he believed that.

He'd probably done something wrong himself.

The thought made him feel sick.

Sam's voice interrupted his thoughts from the couches where the rest of the Avengers were seated.

"Hey Tony, mind if we borrow Peter to show him the training room?"

The sick feeling didn't go away, but Peter's attention was at least redirected. He looked at Mr. Stark, who turned towards Peter.

"Sure, you wanna go?"

"Are you going?"

"Only if you want me to."

"Yes, please."

Tony smiled, "Okay, but as long as we can stop by the med lab afterwards. Brucie and I were thinking we'd like to get a baseline on your health."

"If it's okay with you, Peter," Dr. Banner added to Tony's thought from across the room.

Peter shrugged; he didn't think his Tony Stark had even a baseline on him, but it'd be interesting to know. Plus, his sick feeling wasn't getting any better. "Sounds good to me."

* * *

The training room was awesome, and he even got a private lesson from Bucky in the ring, with Sam and Tony giving pointers from the side. He didn't even hit Bucky once, and every attempt Bucky either redirected or used Peter's off-balance stance to twist him to the ground.

Bucky said Peter did well; Sam said Peter went too easy on Bucky; and Tony said Bucky was too rough with Peter.

Peter rolled his eyes.

"It's fine - I'm fine! It's not like I get much hand-to-hand combat time anyways."

"Yeah, and you could be on fire and say you were fine," Tony argued.

"Reminds me of someone else I know," Sam said, and Bucky pseudo-coughed and nodded his head in Tony's direction. Peter smiled.

"Uh-uh-uh-" Tony began, holding up a pointing finger, "that... is... not a good thing!" He turned back to Peter, "Remember what I told you when we first met?" Tony remembered which he wasn't talking to, and instead turned to point at the two troublemakers. "Well, I told my Peter that he shouldn't do anything I would do, and-"

"Not to do anything you wouldn't do," Peter finished for him.

Tony looked back at Peter, "Exactly."

"I operate in the little grey area," Peter finished. Peter thought he saw sadness in Tony's eyes, and wondered if he should have said something at all.

Sam rolled his eyes, "riiight."

"It does exist," Tony argued, giving Peter a nod before turning back to the others. They just laughed, Peter included. But he still thought he could see a glimmer of pain or sadness behind Tony's scolding glare.

He found himself thinking again about how close this Tony and Peter must have been, and realized how difficult him being here must be for Mr. Stark. He began to feel guilty, wishing he could somehow comfort Mr. Stark without, well, being himself.

He didn't say anything while the lot of them made their way down to the med floor, where they parted ways with Sam and Bucky, leaving Peter and Mr. Stark alone on their way to meet Dr. Banner.

They walked a short distance together before Tony broke the silence.

"What's eatin' at ya, kid."

Peter brought his mind back to the hallway they were traveling down, trying to figure out what Mr. Stark was referring to.

"Don't play innocent with me," Tony continued, "I know when something's bothering you. And when you're lying, so keep that in mind as you answer. What's up?"

Oh.

"Nothing really," Peter began, "I just, uh, wasn't feeling good earlier."

There. That was a truth.

Tony narrowed his eyes, but followed the lead. "In what way?"

Peter shrugged. "I don't know. Nauseous, maybe? Just a little. I feel better now."

Tony nodded. "So if you feel better, why'd you clam up just now?"

Peter thinks about what else he can say; he didn't want to make Mr. Stark feel worse than he was already making him feel.

But Tony cut off his thoughts-

"Eh-eh. I don't want to see you thinking, I wanna hear you talking."

Peter couldn't help but give a laugh. This Tony Stark knew him pretty well. It occurred to him that every thing this Tony Stark knew about him was a bond created that he didn't have, and he realized that that gave this Tony quite an advantage.

He shrugged. "I was just thinking," he started, and the fact that Mr. Stark didn't make a comment on this obvious point, but instead waited for him to continue, proved to Peter that his realization was right.

"I was thinking about how bad it is that I'm here. Like, not for my sake but for yours." He didn't look at Mr. Stark but kept his eyes on where he was walking.

"What do you mean," Mr. Stark asked, "for my sake?"

Peter shrugged again. "I don't know. I mean, I do know. I feel bad because I'm here trying to get home, but just me being here is hurting you. I was always so scared of being in the way in the first place, and now there's literally nothing I can do to help because my existence is literally the problem."

Mr. Stark disappeared from Peter's peripheral vision, and Peter paused and turned to where Mr. Stark had stopped behind him in the hallway. Peter hated that he couldn't read the expression on Mr. Stark's face, like his other self would have probably been able to do.

Tony sighed.

"You're too good for this world, kid, or any world for that matter."

Peter opened his mouth to protest, but Tony shook his head and went on.

"Pete, your existence could never be a problem. Not at your home, and not here. And definitely not for me. Yes, I'll admit it's hard, but that's only because I miss you. It doesn't mean I don't want you here. If anything, it's the opposite."

Peter shook his head, but Tony went on before he could say anything.

"Let me explain - please Peter!"

That shut Peter up. He looked at his mentor with a puzzled look, now curious to listen. But Mr. Stark looked down as he spoke.

"I've been thinking too. I realized that everything you learn about me is something you don't get to learn from your Tony, and I realized how much I would absolutely hate having my personal life exposed like that, even by myself. It's a privacy thing or something, but I don't want to get into it with you. I want you to learn about me from, well, your version of the real me."

Peter took in his words with a frown, realizing what they implied; "you don't mean you're leaving, do? I don't want to have to figure this out without you!"

But Tony shook his head, "No no no, I'm not going anywhere. Because honestly, and this may be selfish, but this gives me more time with you. And sure, it's not 'my version' of the 'real you,' but you're really Peter Parker. So in a way, it's like a gift that I get to have you for a little while longer."

Peter tried to connect the dots, but couldn't. It didn't make sense that Mr. Stark could be there without Peter getting to know him all the while. "So what are we gonna do?" He asked, looking more confused than ever.

Tony smiled. "We're going to make this all about you- more than it already was. I get lucky enough to spend time with you, and you'll have me to help you get home. And I'm only telling you this because, first of all, you're smart and would figure it out, and secondly because you're otherwise too nice to let me dote on you."

"Dote on me?" Peter wasn't sure he liked how that sounded. He just said he wanted to help Mr. Stark too!

"Yes. And don't worry, I already know how you hate it. But I know what my kid liked, and I get you again for a limited time, so you're gonna have to suffer through it."

Peter's breath caught and he blinked at Mr. Stark calling him his kid, but he shoved that thought aside as he tried to use what leverage he had.

"I don't want to put you through all that - I mean I just told you I already feel bad!"

Tony rolled his eyes once more and slowed down. He took a deep breath and placed his hands on Peter's shoulders, looking into his eyes.

"This is not something you should feel bad about. Yes, I lost you. But you being here... this temporary time we're faced with? This is extra time I get with you. And when we're not working on getting you home, I want to spend it by doing what you like. Just think of it as a superpower, that I already know what it is you like to do."

Peter nodded; he didn't know what to say. He looked down to hide the surge of emotion that arose in the back of his throat, and Mr. Stark touched his chin.

"We'll figure this out," he said, "but first," he began, and touched the side of Peter's neck. Peter lightly pulled away from the pain of the touch.

"First we're going to get a thorough health baseline, and by the looks of that bruise we're also apparently going to have to check you out for injuries."

Peter laughed nervously, "I'm fine!"

Tony stood up. "Famous last words," he replied, and they walked down the med bay's hallway into Spider-Man's personal medical room.

* * *

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: Is it fluff? Or is it foreshadowing? (:  
> Please let me know your thoughts on this chapter! They really encourage me, and I can always use encouragement.  
> Shout-out to my class of 2020 crowd! I got my diploma in the mail today! (woo-hoo!) Next stop: NCLEX. (I'll do my best to update the story throughout the studying process!)


	13. Your Life is Not Ours to Risk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where is Peter's place in a place he doesn't belong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Study Break! And don't worry, Tony's perspective (from Peter's universe) is coming soon. I hope you enjoy this chapter and am looking forward to hearing what you think!

Chapter 13: Your Life Is Not Ours to Risk

* * *

\- Day 6, Multiverse Day 2 -

* * *

"Well, your vitals are looking good," Bruce confirmed, "nothing out of the ordinary. The higher heart rate is normal and healthy for you as part of your enhanced qualities, in case you were wondering," Tony didn't doubt that from the look on Peter's face, he _wasn't_ wondering, much less understanding the numbers in front of him, "and from your CBC it looks like you've actually been hypoglycemic over the past few months - low blood sugar, that is."

"Which... is a good thing?" Peter asked, trying to interpret Bruce's meaning.

"Well, it's good as in you're not diabetic, but your metabolism requires more nutrients than it appears you've been getting."

"Oh. I've recently been working on eating healthier and more throughout the day. Mr. Stark and Bucky both just started talking about how important it was."

Tony, standing just behind Peter, muttered, " _just_ _s_ tarted?"

But Bruce nodded, affirming Peter by saying, "that's good to work on moving forward, as adequate nutrition will help you physically and mentally."

Bruce quickly pulled up what appeared to be some sort of x-ray of Peter and went on, "what I would like to inquire about, is this;" he zoomed in on Peter's left shoulder. "There's still healing going on in this area, which I remember for you usually means something happened more recently."

With the black-and-blue past of the Peter Tony knew, even he was able to recognize the mismatched shades on the screen in front of him. Whatever had happened had been recent, and had not been good. They both waited for Peter to begin his explanation.

"I... uh... sorta got stabbed the other day," Peter began, causing Tony to run a hand down his face, "but I got surgery and the Doctor lady said it was better. It feels better."

"Does it still hurt?" Bruce asked.

Peter replied with a confident "No." Tony raised an eyebrow at the lie, which was so apparent to Tony by both his tone of voice and body language, but Bruce believed him. This Peter _obviously_ hadn't learned how to lie to Tony yet, and Tony had no intentions of teaching him.

"So much for _no_ hand-to-hand combat," Tony pointed out, "even if you end up in these situations minimally, you should probably be prepared so that you don't get so hurt on the occasional run-in. Have you looked into training?"

Peter shrugged. "I guess it's a good idea, I just don't know who to ask about it."

Bruce and Tony shared a look, both wondering the same thing.

Tony spoke for them, "what about any of the Avengers? Where do you... stand with, well, any of them? If you know them."

Peter turned to look at Tony, eyes wide at the possibility, "I only met Clint and Bucky before coming here. They said Capt- Steve, was there, but I don't know about the others."

Tony shrugged, "could you ask, uh, me, about training with any of them?"

Peter frowned and looked down in thought; "I don't know; you don't seem... it seems like you don't get along with them." Peter looked up quickly, his voice rising, "but I've only visited over a few days so I don't really know! It could be something totally different!"

Tony shook his head, keeping his expression flat despite the pit he felt in his stomach; "it is what it is; don't worry about me, remember." The more he learned about Peter's reality, the angrier he got with himself. He knew from his past that there was plenty of evidence and situations where he could have been justified in getting angry; at times, he even did cause more trouble for what a situation called for. He knew there was probably a reason or trigger for whatever caused his other-self to mess up so badly, but he knew himself well enough that he couldn't side with his actions. Not yet, anyway.

"And what about the bruises?" Tony asked, setting the pain management investigation and self-assessment aside for the moment.

"Oh that's just because I fell weird in the ring," Peter said quickly, looking relieved at the change of topic, "they'll be gone by tomorrow."

"Okay, we can check on those then," Bruce confirmed, "and Tony said you stated you weren't feeling well earlier; what can you tell me about that?"

Peter shrugged, "I don't know. It was after breakfast, though the food was really good."

"Was it too much?" Bruce assessed, "you mentioned you've only recently started altering your diet."

Peter shook his head, "No, it was good. Mr. Stark was right, it was probably just all the personal questions."

Tony furrowed his brow; "do you often get anxious? Because we can help with that, too."

Peter shook his head again, "no, not like that. Not that I know of. I mean, I'm fine now and you guys have been asking a lot of personal questions."

Tony and Bruce paused. He was right.

"Well, if you feel that way again, just let me know," Bruce said. "Communication is key."

"A lesson I doubt you've learned yet," Tony said, "based on how nice you've been so far." Peter gave a guilty smile; "we're just asking for some honesty here."

"Got it," Peter said, "may I please get something to eat after this? I'm kinda hungry after that workout and this."

Tony smiled, "there we go, and absolutely. Next stop: Tony's All-You-Can-Eat Buffet."

Tony's All-You-Can-Eat Buffet turned out to be lasagna, salad, garlic bread, and several other filler items that Tony found around the kitchen.

Tony was poking around, asking general questions about Peter's life and school, then getting more specific as he discovered differences. He was careful not to give any differences away, and Peter didn't ask questions about his other-dimensional self's life. Using only prompts, Tony listened intently as Peter ramble on about the decathlon team, his friends, his suit, Karen, Aunt May, Spider-Man, and other aspects of his life.

Bruce sat with them, not saying a word or even participating in the conversation at all. Tony figured he just missed Peter's presence; it was good to have his youthful, energetic self back. Tony thought about how different Avengers Tower had been in the month since Peter's been gone; Peter filled a spot on the team they didn't know they needed so much until he was gone.

"Mr. Stark, are you okay?" Peter's voice cut through Tony's thoughts, bringing him back to reality.

"Yeah," Tony caught himself, "I was just thinking about what you were saying about…" Tony consulted his echoic memory, "...the sandwich shop. Are the sandwiches really that good, or are you just loyal?"

Peter considered this for a moment before stating decisively, "definitely both."

Their conversation was interrupted by Tony's cell phone ringing through the priority filter he'd placed on it, meaning it was either Pepper or one of the Avengers calling. Tony saw it was Steve.

Peter could only hear Tony's side of the conversation.

"Steve, to what do I owe the honor?…. No, I'm having lunch with Bruce and Peter…. I figured it was important if it required you using a telephone… I see… Where?… How convenient… We'll be right down."

Tony swiped off the call and turned towards the two who were waiting.

"So apparently, we're needed," he said with mock grandeur, "the public is in danger and the media calls for the Avengers' help. We're being summoned by the others, they're already downstairs."

Tony knocked on the table and then led the trio in standing up; he saw Peter hesitate before joining them.

They made their way down, Tony giving no explanation except that he didn't know any details, and led Peter down a hall he'd never been on before.

Only part of the team, just Steve and Clint, was still in the conference rooms. The news station that was playing in a side room was on mute when they entered, signaling they'd already seen and heard what it had to say. Clint, who was in a reclining chair in the attached room, turned it off when he saw them. Tony knew someone would fill him in when needed.

Steve greeted them when they entered. "Tony, Bruce, Peter. Thanks for coming down, and sorry your lunch had to be interrupted. There's some sort of unnatural weather fluke occurring and the rest of the team's already taken one of the quinjets."

" _Unnatural_ weather fluke?" Bruce asked.

"Sounds like something up Thor's alley," Tony added.

"Yes," Steve answered Bruce, "Unless the city of Atlanta is naturally prone to tsunami's, which I can assure you it's not."

Then Peter finally spoke, "And I can help?"

"Definitely not," Tony cut in, before Steve could sat anything.

Steve looked at Peter and said to him, "Peter, I know how much you like to help on missions – trust me, we all know."

"This isn't even your universe to help," Tony added.

"But I can help!" Peter protested, "I want to help you!"

"I believe you," Steve said, giving Tony A Look asking him to not talk for a minute, "I know you could and would help. But right now, you're on another mission – you've got to get home healthy, and more importantly, alive. We are blessed enough to have you for what is currently an unknown amount of time, but ultimately, your life isn't ours to risk. I couldn't imagine how terrible it would be if something happened to you while you were here."

Peter bit the inside of his cheek in an attempt not to show how disappointed he was; every argument he came up with in his head he was able to refute. It didn't matter which universe – much less which city he was in, people were people, and he wanted to help.

At the same time, however, he saw where Steve was coming from and knew he was right.

For the first time since being in this universe, he realized that the Tony Stark in front of him wasn't the only one he was hurting.

How long had he been here already? Was Mr. Stark looking for him? Did May know?

He needed to get home.

He kept his gaze on the floor and nodded.

"Okay," Steve continued down his mental checklist, "Clint volunteered to stay here with Peter while we're gone."

"How very Katniss of him," Tony commented.

The realization of what Steve was implying hit Peter, and he turned to Mr. Stark. "You're leaving?" He exclaimed.

"Yes," Tony answered, "But as _soon_ as my presence is no longer absolutely required, I'll be back."

Peter nodded, too overwhelmed to say anything.

"I'll be here, too," Bruce said in an attempt to be helpful.

Peter nodded again, but still didn't look up.

"We'll _all_ be back as soon as we can," Steve affirmed; "Tony, the quinjet is waiting for us; I'll catch you up to speed on the flight down."

Tony nodded, held up his index finger, and mouthed _I'll meet you_ to Steve, who nodded but tapped his watch. He walked out of the door, followed by Bruce. Clint was still in his recliner, tapping something on his phone repeatedly with the same finger.

Then Tony pulled Peter into a hug; it caught Peter off guard, and he hugged Tony back before he really processed what he was doing.

Tony let go, and Peter looked up at him; _they were there?_ Was all he could think. That and how he was suddenly aware again of how much he missed his aunt's affection.

Tony smiled. "Seemed like you needed that." he said quietly. Then raising his voice a little but still addressing Peter, said, "Honestly, out of all of us, I'm most worried that you have the biggest handful here with Clint."

" _Heyy,_ " came the humorous voice from the couch. That brought a quiet laugh out of Peter.

"Gotta go," Tony said; he smiled and rubbed his hand through Peter's hair before heading towards the door.

"Don't let Clint get into too much trouble!" He said on his way out.

Peter watched him leave, then stared at the door.

He had nothing else to do. His emotions called for him to find his aunt. Habit told him to call Ned. He wondered where they were here, how they were.

The deep sound of "ba- _bo_ _om_ _mm_ " that was familiar to him from all the recent movie nights at Ned's house, and he turned to see Clint had turned on Netflix.

"Do you," Clint began, and he took the effort to sit up and turn around to look at Peter. "By any chance, do you happen to like Star Wars as much as your counterpart does – did?" He corrected himself. "Because I've been having withdrawals."

Peter couldn't help the smile that appeared on his face as excitement overtook the negative emotions, and he made his way, the bounce in his step growing, to the small room where recliner chairs were facing the television.

"Of course," Peter said.

"Fantastic!" Clint responded, "I'll make popcorn, you pick out the episode."

Peter grabbed the remote and took a seat, thankful that George Lucas's creativity had made it across the multiverse, and not feeling so bad about the upcoming hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a ride for Peter and Tony, eh?!   
> What do you want to see more of as the story progresses and the plot thickens?  
> 


	14. Backup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony needs backup. He hasn’t lost it- not yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to the now Peter Parker-less world! May I present to you, Worried Tony Stark®.

Chapter 14: Backup

* * *

\- Tuesday evening, 4 hours since Tony last heard from Peter -

* * *

No calls, no texts. The kid’s suit is untraceable, and the time Peter said he was going to be at the tower came and passed over three hours ago.

Tony blankly stares at his computer monitor, which is displaying a 3d map of the streets from Queens to Manhattan. He’d been over the timeline again and again in his head, and looking at the streets stressed him out; there were so many possibilities.

If Tony just picked him up, he wouldn’t be here. But he didn’t have the time or the mental stability for ‘ _if_ s’ at the moment, so he tabled those thoughts.

“Hey FRI, you’re still scanning for his phone?” He had to come up with a plan.

“Yes, Boss. The last text Peter’s phone transmitted was at 1:27 pm. The phone stopped receiving signal at 1:54 pm, and has been untraceable since.” Tony had to figure out where to start.

“You said you’re able to find the last spot his phone was working?” Why didn’t he just offer to pick the kid up? It’s not like he had any other plans for the entire afternoon.

“Yes, Boss. Here are the coordinates.” The map zoomed out, then focused back in to an alleyway not necessarily on the way to the Tower. So either the kid made a pit stop to visit a friend here, or something didn’t go as planned. Either resulting in going off the grid.

“Thanks, Fri. Let me know if anything shows up on the phone or the suit.”

“Will do.”

Peter had disabled the trackers once before, and although Tony doubted Peter would try that again, he’d check up on that later, if Peter wasn’t at home.

Tony decided he would stop by the spot, then visit the Parker’s apartment.

* * *

Nothing.

That’s what he had.

He checked the time, which was nothing more than a stopwatch counting the time Tony _wasn’t_ on his way to finding Peter; each second was a point amounting to how much of a failure he was as a mentor – no, not that. In this case, he was a failure at being a responsible human being.

Despite the constant jokes on how irresponsible and immature Tony was, he liked to think he was at least responsible for the people he cared about, regardless of what people said. But it was times like this that made him doubt his own self-worth.

“Hello?” The young voice on the phone sounded hesitant, and for good reason. Tony had hidden his own number before calling.

“Is this Ned Leeds?”

Another pause as the voice decided whether or not to convey this information to the unknown number. “Yes, may I ask who’s calling?”

“This is Tony Stark. Have you-”

“Mr. Stark?”

Tony felt the aggravation swell, and he swallowed it down. “Yes.” He heard the kid whisper something. Was Peter there??

“I have a question for you, are you ready?” One step at a time; one breath at a time. Tony knew he had to maintain control over himself if he wanted to gain control of the situation.

He had no power over attacks, save prevention, so he kept the panic down.

“Yes, Mr. Stark, thank you for calling me! May I say what an honor it is to--”

“I’m sorry, it’s urgent.” Tony felt bad cutting off the teenager, but urgent it was.

Silence met him.

Good.

“Is Peter with you?”

“No, sir, he told me he was going to Stark Tower.” This was a dead end, Tony knew it.

“When? Have you heard from him?”

“Uhhhh… sometime after lunch today? But that was a while ago, like a little after lunch. He’s normally pretty bad at texting when he’s at the tower, so I didn’t really--” Tony cut him off.

“Did you or do you know if his suit’s tracker was disabled again?”

The boy hesitated; Tony could feel him trying to figure out what was going on. “No, we didn’t. Is Peter not at the Tower?”

“Thanks.” Tony ignored the question; he had to move on to the net step. What was the next step?

The kid interrupted his thought: “Is Peter okay?” _Don’t think about it, don’t think about it._ _Stay focused._

He responded instead with, “Can you let me know if you hear anything?”

“Yessi-” Tony hung up.

He hadn’t given the kid any contact info, so he sent him Happy’s number before calling it himself.

Tony needed backup.

* * *

“What did his aunt say?” Happy’s voice was met with silence. Happy squinted his eyes; “You told his aunt, right Tony?”

Tony rubbed a hand down his face. Had it even been long enough to warrant calling the kid’s aunt? He looked at the clock, but the numbers meant nothing to him, so he mentally dismissed it.

“Tony,” Happy continued, “you should call his aunt; besides the fact that she _needs_ to know, if anything were to happen to the kid, he’d most likely call her first.”

“But I’m supposed to be his contact person while she’s gone.” Tony didn’t want to make this call, but he felt the seconds ticking towards the inevitable.

“Yes, you’re supposed to be, but he still might’ve called her first. She’s his aunt.”

“And I’m his contact. He would have called me first if anything were actually wrong. Therefore, he wouldn’t have contacted his aunt.” And May would have contacted Tony. And therefore nothing was actually wrong.

If only he could convince himself.

“Yes, you’re his contact,” Happy admitted, “But you have a history of being difficult for him to contact; a notably short history, at that.”

Tony gave Happy a glare, but knew he couldn’t argue. He instead turned to look at the map, which now encompassed the entire city, and willed the red, blinking light signifying the search to turn green. It didn’t.

“You have to make the call Tony. Honestly, I’d do it for you, but it _has_ to be you.” _Turn green. Green. Green_. The red light refused to give in.

He sighed and picked up the phone. Happy stood up.

“I’ll go drive up and down the streets and look,” Happy told him. Tony didn’t look at him. “I’ll stop by his school, his apartment again, and that spot you showed me in the alleyway, before going by the routes he might’ve taken on his way here.” Tony still didn’t look up from where he was fiddling with his phone.

Happy stopped at the door. “He’s fine, Tony. If he wasn’t, we’d know. Call May.”

It took another half hour of self-encouragement before Tony could muster up what he needed to call May. He listened to the ringing, hoping she wouldn’t pick up so he could push it off for later.

His heart sank as the tone was cut short, and he was met with her professional nursing voice.

“Hi, May Parker speaking.” If he hung up now, would he be helping or hurting her?

“Hi, May, this is Tony.” He paused, wondering what to say next. Where to start.

“Hi Tony,” she said, when he didn’t go on.

“How’s it going with you two? Anything I can help with?” Her voice was just as chipper, but he could hear the slight change in her tone, wondering why it was Tony who was calling.

Tony swallowed the emotion in his throat, and spoke. “I hope so. I was wondering if you’ve heard from Peter at all this afternoon? He said he was coming over to the Tower after lunch, but I haven’t seen or heard from him since.”

He heard what must have been the sound of her checking her phone, and waited until she put the phone back up to her ear. “No, he hasn’t texted or called me since this morning.”

Tony was once again met with deafening silence.

_What was the next step. Was he missing something?_

May would know. “Did he had a school thing pop up? Or a group of friends he might have run off with?”

“No,” She replied. “No school thing. And Peter wouldn’t ‘run off’ at all without telling anyone. He’s not like that.”

Tony knew that; he was just hoping.

“Except for, you know….” her voice implied what all roads were leading back to; “….his internship.”

Tony nodded, then remembered he was conversing over a phone call. He sighed. “Okay.”

“ _Okay_?” She echoed, the panic now evident. “Tony, what should I do? How can I help?”

Tony rubbed a hand down his face. What could she do? What else could be done?

“I can alert the police,” she suggested, “send in Peter’s photos.”

“I already have my best searching every camera an any device capable of… uh, searching,” Tony said, “please don’t think into that, but _do_ understand that I’m currently doing more than the police would be able to do at this stage.” But it wasn’t just that.

If he, Tony Stark, plastered Peter’s name and face everywhere, then that would let whoever did know where he was that Tony Stark was looking for him. He doubted that would help reveal whatever was going on, anyways. Peter was strong, Tony knew, and he had deducted that whatever this was, was somehow superhero related. If someone had managed to take him, they were good; and they knew who he was by now.

That, or something worse. Tony didn’t want to think of the other reason he’d suddenly get radio silence from Spider-Man. Peter wasn’t bulletproof, and New York City was by no means bullet-free.

“Tony?” He’d forgotten she was on the phone. “I can be back tomorrow evening at the earliest. Just let me know how I can help, from my apartment.”

“May- Happy is searching the streets now. I have every-- wait, from your apartment?”

“Yes, I have to quarantine myself before I go out, it’s a mandatory medical staff thing now,”

“May.” Why did this have to happen to _this_ family? Tony felt another wave of guilt wash over him as he thought about how he could have prevented this. “May, I’m sorry. I’m doing everything I can, and when I say I have the best resources, I have _the best_ resources. I honestly doubt it will be much longer before we hear something from him, and I promise I will keep you up to as date as I am. You can go ahead and send his photo in, but I’ll hear something long before you do if anything pops up.”

“Okay, I’m trusting you on this,” she said, and for the first time, he heard her strong voice waver. “Thank you Tony. I’ll let you know when I get in.”

He didn’t deserve it. Not her trust, not her thanks. He hung up the phone before he accidentally conveyed any emotion, and resumed staring at the screen while diving into his thoughts again, backtracking, coming up with situations and explanations as to what _could_ have happened.

He was still sitting there when a knock on the door startled him out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see Natasha standing in the somehow open doorway.

It took a split second of recognition for him to regain his composure, and he slid a hand across his desk, causing everything to go blank.

“How long have you been standing there?” He asked, more curious as to how much she could have figured out from what was pulled up on his screens.

“How long has this straight coffee streak been running?” Tony stood up, noticing how it looked like he’d had a lot of coffee.

“Oh, this has been years in the making. I’d need to consult Pepper for the details.” On second thought, however, he _had_ actually had a lot of coffee since…. Well, he skipped dinner, and he didn’t know what time it was, so since then.

Natasha stared at him, not appreciating his humor, and Tony realized (or more so _hoped_ ) that despite her blank expression, she actually hadn’t caught onto what was going on.

Of course, now that she was here, he could use her help. She was part of _the best_ that he had promised May. But if she didn’t know anything, then Tony was in control. He could use her on a need-to-know bases, as she didn’t need to know Peter was Spider-Man, and everything that came with that, for example.

“Work keeping you up late?” She asked, prodding.

“Oh, you know, same as usual. Always on the lookout for threats, bad guys, and people who aren’t where they’re supposed to be.”

“Cut the crap, Tony, what’s going on? Is there something we should know about or not? Because at this point, it seems like you’d take any excuse or distraction to avoid facing us.”

Right, the rogues. He’d forgotten about that problem; it seemed like forever ago that his biggest stressor was having to face those idiots. But he really _could_ use Natasha’s help, and Peter was more important than Tony’s personal problems.

“No,” he answered, “no _we_. However, this distraction, or excuse, whichever you prefer, would be out of the way much faster with _your_ help.”

Her expression didn’t change.

“Your help, which I’d happen to greatly appreciate in this case,” he added.

She raised an eyebrow.

“Please.” He asked now with less of his businessman’s attitude and more of… himself. She could see right through it all anyways, but he wanted her to know he meant it.

She furrowed her brow in consideration, keeping her gaze on him. “Alright, but on one condition: if this has to do with Rogers, Maximoff, Barnes,--”

“- which it doesn’t,” he cut her off, “it doesn’t. So you cannot tell them.”

She searched his eyes until she found the honesty she needed, and sighed. “Okay. Fill me in. But first, you need a midnight snack.”

Tony almost protested until he saw she was right about the time, and walked with her, willing to eat if it meant getting her on his side for this.

With both the negative and now positive connotations it brought, it was officially a new day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony is trying to hold it together, and more importantly hide the panic from others. What are your thoughts?
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter! 
> 
> ~ UniverseMarvel


	15. Help for who we still have.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: My Favorite Weakness (is You)  
> Summary: Tony still can't find Peter, and Natasha's beginning to become afraid they're going to lose Tony, too. Natasha's intuition instructs her to take initiative.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for staying with this story! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**Chapter 15: Help for who we still have.**

* * *

**\- Day 6 [** _first morning without Peter_ **] -**

* * *

_Tick;_

_Tick;_

_Tick;_

The persistent sound became louder in Tony's mind, and the realization of what it was startled him awake.

It was a bomb counting down detonation.

Peter was going to die.

_TICK._

Tony sat up, his eyes fighting the urge to close against the stabbing pain in his chest, and looked around the room; _no bomb,_ he reassured himself, yet despite the fact that he knew they were doing everything they could to find Peter, there was always the nagging voice that he could be doing more.

As if just the fact that Tony wasn't physically out looking for Peter on the streets was proof that Tony could be doing more; and despite what Natasha said, Tony knew he wasn't going to be able to rest until they found Peter.

* * *

Natasha knew Tony was awake, and waited for him in the lab where they'd set up their base to search for the Stark intern; Natasha had already begun to suspect there was something more to the boy than Stark was letting on, but she also knew when to prioritize which quest for information.

And right now, the boy's location was atop the list.

She silently watched as Tony entered the lab, obviously unaware of her presence and on some quest for something probably involving a drink.

She watched as he put his book under his left shoulder so he could pour himself a glass. No, that wasn't a book – but a round wall clock. Now curious, she raised an eyebrow at what he might be up to.

She was again surprised when he set down the clock, pulled open a drawer, removed a hammer, and – with his glass in the other hand – began beating the clock to pieces.

Her face resumed its normal unreadable expression as her thoughts returned to the missing person.

"This boy," she began, and though she saw him flinch at the noise, she knew he accepted her entrance into his current existence with a quick glance, before he went on slamming the clock. "He's your… intern," Natasha reiterated.

"Yes." It wasn't really a question, but he knew she was seeking information, so he answered.

She studied him. She could tell there was something Tony was not telling her, but despite her questions, she was still in the dark as to what it could be. She could only hope that whatever it was, was not important in finding Parker.

The banging stopped, and Tony, apparently pleased with his handiwork, used his sleeve to sweep the remaining pieces onto the floor before turning towards Natasha and leaning his weight back to be supported by the table.

"What do you think?" He asked, picking up the conversation topic.

She paused a moment before answering, studying his face to get more details, then shrugged, and looked at the display sitting between them.

"All the boy has to do is get his face in front of any non-disposable camera," she replied; "this technique is based off the way we found Loki, and it's only improved since then. Plus, I'm guessing your intern doesn't have an inter-dimensional portal he's been using to leave the planet?"

Tony blew out a deep breath; "no, nothing like that. He would have said something, to someone, before _he_ did anything. Whatever this is, it happened _to_ him." His eyes were looking at the wall, but seeing something she knew wasn't there. She wondered how many times and how many situations he'd watched this intern get into trouble, and she could only imagine that he was already piling up the guilt for a list of occurrences which never happened.

She was already beginning to realize how right she was about this intern being special, and knew she was going to lose Tony, too, if they weren't careful, and sooner than later. She had to maintain control.

"Like how _you_ happened to that clock?"

His eyes regained focus on her, and despite his slight frown, she noticed his cheek twitched. "Nonsense," he said, and his voice resumed its lightness; "that clock was asking for it."

"Asking… to get hammered to bits?"

"Loudly and persistently."

She smiled at him, noting how stressed he was, how labored his breathing was despite how much it had already calmed down. He was on the brink of losing it.

Natasha bet she knew the reason why Tony wanted as few people as possible on this case – the _real_ reason, that is – but she was going to have to convince him otherwise. Something was wrong with the entire scenario, and they needed help.

She'd help Tony keep his secret, but began making a search-and-rescue plan involving the other Avengers. As important as it was to find the kid, they also had to make sure Tony made his way out of this. From what she'd read on the kid, it was already evident that someone must have pieced the information together and connected that the best way to get at Tony would be to take his kid.

If whoever it is was smart enough to piece together _that_ information, then she knew their next move would not be so careless as to accidentally show Peter's face to a hackable camera. No, it would be purposeful, and they would be ready by then. Ideally, with the help of the team, they would be able to find Peter before anything was broadcast.

She looked at the time, calculating what the best move would be.

"Why don't I go get some breakfast?"

Tony looked at the time on his computer display, and Natasha bet the hesitation was him trying to figure out if it was AM or PM.

"Breakfast," he repeated, "sure. I'll go with you."

"Or I can bring it here," she suggested, "and you can update the past few hours?"

He shrugged. She hated seeing him like this, none of his usual demeanor. This wasn't Tony.

"Sure," he said. Good. She needed help.

* * *

"I see why you're worried about him," Steve Rogers said, "and thank you for telling me."

They were in the kitchen; Natasha was leaning back against the counter, waiting for the toaster behind her to cook, and Steve was leaning against the kitchen's island bar next to the stools, the windows providing a backdrop of rain behind him.

"You understand that you can't do anything yet, without his permission," she asked, "right?"

Steve nodded. "whatever reason he didn't trust us to ask us for help before, I'll respect that. But I'm glad you told me so I can be here for him; I wouldn't want to lose him right under our noses."

"He asked me not to tell you, or any of the team, for that matter. You _know_ I wouldn't have called you like this if I thought there was a way I could do this without you."

Steve glanced at her, but nodded.

"We both know," she continued, "an angry Tony is better than a lost one."

They sat for a moment, eyes lost in the rain, remembering the times Tony had been lost – ambushed in Siberia; long nights of drinking; and the time he'd been counting down the days until the poison would claim his life — and the lifelong psychological damage they've witnessed since.

The toaster _popped_ , and they were brought back to the present. Natasha turned to get the bread.

"So, should I come upstairs now?" Steve asked, bringing the focus back to the problem at hand.

"No, I'll call you. I just wanted to talk to you before, so you have an idea of what's going on."

"Before… as in he doesn't even know you're talking to me?"

"I needed to make sure we're on the same page. I already _know_ I'm going to need your help; you and Tony have a friendship. "

Steve raised his eyebrows skeptically at the word.

She eyeballed him, and shrugged as she spoke. "You _are_ friends, even if you're going through a rough patch. You two have been through too much together to not. And you're _here_ , in the Tower; that's proof enough that he hasn't given up on you."

Steve remained quiet, keeping his eyes down as he considered her words.

"And I also wanted to make sure you knew not to mention Barnes at all."

Steve huffed out a voiceless laugh and shook his head. "I know."

"Okay, good. And Steve?"

He flicked his eyes up to meet hers.

"Do **not** tell the others, until Tony gives the clear. You can feel free to bring up the notion of the team helping, and hopefully he'll make the right choice from there. I'm guessing we're gonna need all the help we can get, but we can't overwhelm him or completely take over. Tony needs to stay in control. I also don't want too many people knowing too much about Tony's problems without him being the one to share it – we both know he's more private about this stuff."

She knew how much Steve hated the idea of keeping secrets, but he nodded in understanding and agreement, and Natasha got up to go.

On her way to the door, he stopped her. "Natasha?"

She turned.

"What makes this kid so… I don't know, special? I don't mean this in a bad way at all, but it just seems out of character for Tony to put so much personal effort into finding someone he didn't know at all rather than relaying it on to the proper authorities."

Natasha held eye contact, and shrugged. "Tony only said he was an intern for the company."

He nodded, and she walked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! There's more to come - good and not-so-good. What do you think where Tony's at? 
> 
> Thank you all for the comments, DMs, and kudos! I appreciate the love and support and am so happy you're liking the story! Let me know what you think, and I'll keep it coming!


	16. No Use for Lost Skills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter's evening without Tony. Maybe everything goes great; or maybe he goes exploring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Let's talk later so we can get started....

**Title: My Favorite Weakness (is You)**

**Summary: Peter's evening without Tony. Maybe everything goes great; or maybe he goes exploring.**

**Author's Notes: Sooo it's been a while. Feel free to go back & skim a few chapters to refresh your memory!**

**Chapter 16:** **No Use for Lost Skills**

* * *

**Chapter 16:** **No Use for Lost Skills**

* * *

\- Evening of Peter's 2nd Day in the Other Universe -

* * *

"You okay, kid?"

Clint's question was met with silence from the teenager who was leaning forward in his recliner, face shaped in deep thought, eyes furrowed in concentration, head resting in hand.

"Do I need to call Tony?" Clint was afraid that Peter's lip would start bleeding from where he was biting it so hard.

Peter's head popped up at the mention of Tony, and his eyes came back into focus. He shook his head no, but didn't say anything. Clint began to worry something wasn't right, and he muted the music playing over the credits.

"What's on your mind, Peter?" He asked, taking advantage of Peter's returned mental attention; "is something wrong?"

Peter looked at him, and Clint saw his eyes still looked glazed over.

"Your Star Wars is wrong. Since when was Luke's uncle a _Jedi?_ "

Clint let out a breath of relief and leaned back on the sofa.

He encouraged Peter to go on, now that it was something so trivial; "Master Owen?"

Peter looked at him, dumbfounded; "Yeah," he whispered, shaking his head; Clint laughed.

Peter scowled, "What- What- Why are you laughing? I'm serious!"

Clint put on a mock serious face. "Right," he answered; "as long as nothing's actually wrong."

"I'm sorry, but something is actually wrong! Uncle Owen isn't a Jedi, for starters!" He exclaimed.

"Oh, so there's more?"

Peter lifted his eyebrows. " _More?_ " he shook his head. "Have you heard of the butterfly effect?"

Clint leaned forward in interest. "Something about how if you change one thing, then other things are different?"

Peter nodded solemnly. "That's what I'm afraid of. And that was only Episode IV."

Clint laughed again. "Well, if you're so worried, why don't we get some food and then go on to the next episode?"

Peter jumped up, "Sounds good. Is it okay if I stop by my room to get a jacket or something?"

Clint stood up, a little slower out of his deep recliner; "You cold?" He paused a moment as if registering the temperature of the air, and then shrugged. "Sure, but if you want, there are some soft fuzzy blankets in the closet down the hall, we could use those if you'd like."

Peter smiled; "That sounds great."

"Sweet," Clint opened the door to the hallway and flipped on the light switch; "if you go down here and to the left, there's the closet. We're _technically_ not supposed to eat in here, but-" he shrugged, "we do anyways. Would you have any objection to some warmed dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets?"

"You have those here?"

"By 'here' do you mean in this dimension or in Avengers Tower? Because yes to both, but you can thank Sam and Natasha for them being in stock after he got them as a joke for Steve's birthday party."

Peter laughed quietly and shifted his stance, taking a second to figure out the best way to ask what he wanted to know. "Have you heard from Mr. Stark or anyone about the mission?"

Clint checked his watch, lighting up the screen. "Nat sent an update about half an hour ago saying she thought they were almost done, and then," he pulled out his phone, "she just texted that she thinks they're about to wrap up, actually."

Peter nodded.

"My guess is that they'll be back before we've finished the next movie."

Peter felt better knowing that, and he nodded and smiled.

"The next movie in the series is my favorite," Clint said, " _Episode V: The Empire Dances Back_." He grinned.

Peter froze, and stared at Clint until he squinted his eyes and glared at him. "You're joking," he said, and stepped forward to take the door and move past Clint.

"Am I?" Clint teased.

Peter rolled his eyes. "You'd better be. So I'll meet you back here?"

"Yep." Clint walked to the other side of the room. "Nat said you're still learning your way around, so don't get lost." He smiled.

Peter laughed. "No promises."

"Just follow the scent of the toasty fresh dino-nugs," Clint called, "And grab me a blanket!" he yelled after himas the door closed behind Peter.

Peter turned and walked down the hallway, wondering if the closet would be on the left or if there would be a left turn first.

He tried the first door he got to, and it was locked.

So was the second one.

He stood facing the locked door, and looked to his right. The hallway wasn't that long, and he was more interested in finding out where it led, anyways.

Besides, he had time before Clint made it back to the kitchen.

He reached the end of the short hallway and made a left turn, triggering the motion-sensor lights. He smiled when he saw interesting-looking glass doors at the end of _this_ hallway.

He passed what he was sure was the closet, and walked right up to the glass, so that his face was almost pressed up against it. He could see the fog circle grow and shrink every time he breathed.

He furrowed his brow, however, when he saw what the room held.

It was empty. He pursed his lips in disappointment, thinking he'd found something cool. It was probably better that he didn't, given his history of clumsy mistakes and the added fact that Mr. Stark probably had hidden cameras everywhere.

He was about to turn around, when the door suddenly burst to life, surprising him into taking a step back. With a _schwoop_ , it slid open, connecting the white, seamless hallway floors with the square tile one within.

He paused.

The room was empty, but it seemed... wrong. Peter was sure he recognized it from somewhere. It just seemed so… empty. And quiet.

He took a step in.

"Welcome back, Peter."

He jumped at the sound of FRIDAY's voice booming through the invisible speakers.

"Hey, FRIDAY," he said with a shaky laugh.

He stopped, turning to go, when FRIDAY spoke again:

"Would you like me to pull up where you left off?"

Peter paused, and turned back.

Of _course_ , FRIDAY couldn't know he wasn't Peter… well, not the rightPeter, anyway.

He hesitated, before nodding.

"Sure," he said in a small, curious voice.

He looked up, expectantly.

Whatever he was expecting to happen, this wasn't it.

The floor in front of him warped, causing him to jump back once again.

The floor disconnected from itself as rectangular shapes made themselves apparent. These panels turned and pivoted, revealing desks and tables that had apparently been hanging upside-down under the floor.

As quickly as it had started, everything froze in place.

He recognized the new scene in front of him:

Mr. Stark's lab.

"Cool," he whispered under his breath.

He waited a moment, taking in the sight in front of him, before physically following his gaze.

He stepped forward, making his way down one of the desks; there was a variety of projects, some looking more finished than others. Some were clearly Iron Man material, others for his Spider-man suit.

He didn't recognize any of them.

There was a computer across the room displaying several interchanging pictures and logos as its screensaver, and one caught Peter's eye- it looked like some sort of party, but he recognized his face.

By the time he got to the computer, the picture was gone, replaced by another News article displaying, " _Avengers Save the Day – Again!_ "

He pushed the left arrow, hoping it would go back, but the screensaver quit, pulling up the blue login page instead.

He stared at the keyboard, the blinking cursor anxiously anticipating a password.

But Peter didn't know what it was.

He tried putting in his phone's password for the hell of it, but that flashed red before disappearing, incorrect.

He typed, _stark123_ , but got the same result.

He gave up, turning back to where he had stopped exploring last time.

FRIDAY's voice scared him, again; "Peter, would you like the password hint?"

"What?" he exclaimed, more out of surprise.

"If you are having trouble with the password," FRIDAY responded, "I can offer you Boss's hint, if you would like."

Peter bit his lip. If he wasn't supposed to see the computer's contents, then FRIDAY telling him the password wouldn't be the same as him guessing it.

But then again, it was just a hint.

He turned back to the computer. "Sure, FRIDAY, that'd be great."

A pause, then her voice came through. "What is Breakfast Man's rightful name?"

"What?" What kind of a hint was that?

"Boss said that if Spiderbaby forgets the computer password, then he'll have to admit Breakfast Man's rightful name."

"Spider-baby?" Peter was more confused than ever.

"I'm sorry Peter, that is incorrect," FRIDAY apologized, "unless you are referring to the hint's vocabulary, as to which I can assure you, that was Boss's choice of words, not mine."

Peter rolled his eyes, "I believe you." He wasn't sure he liked the nickname, but at least FRIDAY agreed with him.

Now, as to Breakfast Man? That was the midnight pancake thing, right?

He tried to recall the conversation.

" _Don't tell me you've never met Breakfast Man_ ," Mr. Stark had said; " _You have no idea what you've been missing._ "

Then what had he said… something about Peter naming it? " _Breakfast Man, who you named, by the way;_ " Right. Then, " _my vote was on_ _Gerald_."

Gerald.

That was it.

He typed it in, and it worked.

"Thanks, FRI," he called out, as the screen flashed to life.

Not just that, but all the screens around him flickered on as well, and some were even holographic.

Projects that he'd seen just 2D blueprints of now floated above their respective desks, rotating on display. Virtual tools, folders, even a few designs of his suit, and menu options hovered in the air around them. He could now see how the setup made a sort of choppy figure-8 shape, one area was designated to Iron Man, one to him, and the middle area where the projects, colors, suits, and materials overlapped; there were chairs in the middle of each segment.

Oh, how he wished he could be here as it was meant to be; as it actually had been.

Which reminded him of the photos he was seeking after.

He turned back to the computer, blinking quickly as he clicked open the photos tab. Dozens of folders met him, and he scrolled through, looking for one that looked interesting and was unlocked.

He stopped at one titled "My idiots," reading the cover photo. " _Get a family, they said;_ "Then under a picture of a newspaper header that only said **AVENGERS** , it went on: **"** _it will be fun, they said_."

Peter opened the folder.

A family album met him. A family… that wasn't, or shouldn't be, in his mind.

The pictures didn't register at first, as he saw a picture of Mr. Steve, Mr. Stark, Thor ( _!_ ), and Dr. Banner pointing at the camera like a boy band.

Or the next one with Hawkeye looking distraught at a card game on the table, with Bucky smiling from behind.

The next one was Steve pointing excitedly to a mural of himself on a police station's wall.

He actually laughed out loud at a selfie of Mr. Stark, when he saw the picture's purpose was the sleeping Avengers behind him. Peter saw Dr. Banner and Dr. Strange passed out on couches behind Mr. Stark, Mr. Barton was curled up on a loveseat, and he saw Mr. Wilson and… himself… sleeping on the floor, backs propped up against the couches, x-box controllers still in their hands.

This was the first time he'd seen a picture of himself.

He paused, before making himself go on.

He scrolled through pictures of individual, several, or all of the team members throughout stages and events of the year.

There was a New Year's party.

A field trip to an art museum.

A visit to a children's hospital.

Some night involving ice cream in hotel rooms.

Birthday parties and celebrations, including his own.

Fundraisers.

Sleepovers.

Haircuts.

Crime fighting.

Boredom.

Movie nights.

Homework.

Peter finished a short video taken by Steve in the living room where apparently Mr. Stark and Peter – uh, him – had fallen asleep on the couch while watching Star Wars when Peter had been sick (apparently he could get sick?), and realized there were tears running down his face.

He wiped his face and quickly closed out of the program. He sat back in the chair, pulling his feet up and hugging his knees.

He couldn't get himself to move, so he just sat there.

He didn't know how much time had passed when he heard voices in the hallway.

He wiped his face again, sitting up but knowing his eyes would be puffy no matter what.

He heard Mr. Barton say something, and was surprised to recognize Mr. Stark's voice answer.

He turned in his chair and was surprised to see only Mr. Stark walking into the lab.

"Having fun?" The man said, before seeing the look on Peter's face; Peter saw his shoulders drop and was relieved to see an accompanying expression of compassion.

"Maybe not," Mr. Stark answered himself.

He rolled over a chair and sat next to Peter.

Peter buried his face in his arms, engulfing himself in darkness.

Seconds passed, or minutes.

Finally, Mr. Stark broke the silence.

"I heard we got Star Wars wrong."

So he wasn't in trouble?

Peter flipped his face so that he could now see Mr. Stark.

He nodded.

Mr. Stark nodded back.

His eyes scanned the room, but found their way back to Peter's. They weren't angry. Peter was surprised to see sadness in his expression, just shadowed in the movements in his eyes.

He sensed weariness and exhaustion, too, and all of a sudden he realized how un-put together Mr. Stark's appearance was. Right – he had just been fighting!

Peter's head popped up; "did you win?"

Mr. Stark furrowed his brow before smiling when he realized what he was asking about; "of course."

Peter nodded, resting his head again.

"I was able to get back early. Looks like you've been busy exploring."

Peter looked down.

"Have any questions?"

Peter bit his lip, focusing on keeping his emotions down, from swelling up again.

He glanced to the computer but shook his head.

Mr. Stark pursed his lips, but changed the subject.

"Soo, Clint got quite the comfy setup built up in the other room, though he went to meet the others. Whatchya say we make our way there? We won't be bothered, and we can talk whenever you're ready. Or not."

Peter sniffed, nodded, and stood up with Mr. Stark.

"FRI, can you close shop tonight?"

"Yes, boss," she replied.

Peter followed Mr. Stark to the door, where he paused to stand next to Peter.

"C'mon, bud," Mr. Stark encouraged him, and put his arm around him.

Peter hugged himself, trying not to cry, but overwhelmed by the meaningful but not-so-familiar embrace.

"I think I caught a glimpse of some chicken nuggets. You don't happen to be hungry, do you?"

"If I don't accept dino nugs, then you better suspect an imposter," Peter responded.

He could practically feel Mr. Stark smile, and realized that's the first thing he's said to him tonight. There was just so much going on in his mind, he'd have to catch up and process later.

"The meal of champions," Mr. Stark agreed, and Peter smiled back.

His thoughts flashed back to the pictures he had seen, how the Avengers had adopted him into their family, how Mr. Stark was like his Uncle… Or maybe like a dad.

Peter realized that whatever life he had missed, Mr. Stark had lost.

The dusty lab spoke a lot about what had happened during and _since_ this universe had lost him.

So regardless of the reasons why Mr. Stark knew just how to lift Peter's mood, he would accept it for now.

Besides, he was really hungry for some chicken nuggets.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: *What Are Your Thoughts?!*
> 
> Thank you all for reading, especially to you who came back after my writing break! Life's been crazy, and time's been booked. My Life Updates: I graduated, became a registered nurse, got Covid, got better, got a job at the hospital, started grad school, and still can't smell - 4 months post-covid. I literally have a list of smells I will seek out once I can smell again; do you have anything I should add to the list?
> 
> I hope your lives are going great, staying interesting (in a good way), and you all are safe. Please leave feedback on the story, as that really encourages me to keep going, and I absolutely *love* to hear what you have to say!


	17. 'For Now,' He Says

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then in walks 'Nick-The-AuDAcity-Fury.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the love and support! I apparently haven't been getting update emails, so I logged on and was very surprised that people had actually written comments and left kudos (you know who you are). I immediately went to write the next chapter, and here we are! 
> 
> I read every comment, and will reply after I publish this chapter. This one's for you, @usingmymadeupname ! [thank you for your support!]

Chapter 17: 'For Now,' He Says.

* * *

\- Morning of Peter's 3rd Day in the Other Universe -

* * *

Tony's watch buzzed early, waking him up.

Well, 10 am "early."

His initial plan to ignore it was interrupted by another buzz.

And then three more.

He swiped it open to block whoever it was that was texting him, and sighed when he saw who it was.

Nick _the auDACity_ Fury.

Dared to show up.

Tony got up, stealing a glance at Peter, who was curled up in his recliner chair fast asleep. Good, the kid needed sleep. Tony guessed he hadn't slept much since he'd been here, judging the growing circles under his eyes.

He used the blurry reflection in the elevator to comb his hair down with his fingers, but another notification from Mr. Impatient prompted him to stop on his floor to grab fresh change of clothes.

If Fury thought he could walk in unannounced, then he could also wait. Tony didn't want to feel late to a meeting that didn't exist, unless it could be fashionably late on his own terms. And as he had the ability to make that happen, he put on his smartglasses and did just so.

"Stark," Fury greeted him when he finally entered the room, Watching as Tony made his way to the mini-bar rather than to the sitting area.

Natasha chimed in from the other side of the room, "Nice of you to join us," she played at Stark, keeping her features stern.

Sam, Clint, and Steve were also present, though they didn't look the least bit concerned.

Smart. Unlike Fury, they were learning.

Tony could feel the annoyance in Fury's demeanor, and couldn't help but send a smirk Nat's way as he poured his coffee, facing away from the man.

Oh, they had their fun.

Tony turned back to face them both, maneuvering around the counter to be closer to them.

Fury sighed; "are you ready?"

A rhetorical question.

"Just a moment," Tony quipped, before he shifted his weight so that he was leaning back on the counter. "You may begin."

It was the little things in life.

"Oh, we've begun," Fury went on, though they all knew Tony didn't care. "My new irritation is catching you up."

"Oh, I think I've been doing alright in that aspect. We had Monolith Discovery Monday, Taco Tuesday resumed after media backlash, Florida Man did something not-bad… and that's it. Or do you mean catching me up on things like the new weather party going on in Eastern Europe? Yeah, I didn't think the Adriatic Sea belonged in Serbia, either. Not that I knew it didn't until ten minutes ago. Oh, and also water generally doesn't… walk."

Sam huffed a ghost of a laugh, and Fury folded his arms.

Tony knew what was up.

"I'm here, to do something about it."

Tony raised his mug as if in toast, "A-men to that," he said, and worked on emptying the cup.

Fury glared, then turned, addressing the entire team now.

"We're going to need to commence a search and rescue ASAP," another glare towards Tony, "with a few modifications.

"First off, we're adding a discovery piece. Resources in Atlanta gave me some… interesting information, after you all left location. Rather hurriedly, might I add."

Tony rolled his eyes.

"Moreover," Fury went on, "we need to be more secret about arriving on scene. Our data experts are analyzing the anomalies as we speak, and after this morning's events, they think they'll be able to pinpoint the next location. Though I doubt we'll know when it'll happen, so our best course of action is to go there now."

The team nodded, but Tony filled with worry for Peter. He couldn't leave him again, after yesterday.

"Do we all have to go?" Clint asked.

When was the last time Tony told Clint how much he loved him? Yeah he was probably due for that.

Fury stood up.

"You got somewhere else to be, Barton?"

"Nah, I just-"

"You were just packing up for Serbia, right."

Tony downed the rest of his coffee, getting ready to put up some sort of argument, when Pepper's voice entered before he could get the chance.

"Excuse me, director?" He heels tapped across the floor as she made her way towards them. "I hope I'm not interrupting, though it looks like I caught you at the right time."

"Ms. Potts," Fury said, almost politely. Almost. "I was just leaving."

"That's okay, I can walk and talk," she said businesslike. Professional as always, yet somehow with the same power he got only through being… well, however people would describe him as being.

"Agent Hill will arrive shortly and meet you at transport," Nick said to the team, before turning to go.

They nodded, and Pepper didn't so much as glance at Tony as she effortlessly turned and matched his step.

But he could have sworn he saw A Look pass between her and Natasha. He couldn't read her face, though, and she wouldn't look at him.

So that was a yes.

Tony pretended to listen to Steve as he gave the team a rundown of the plan, and could only hear a snippet of Pepper's conversation before they got out of earshot.

"I'm sorry to inform you, director," she was saying, "but I'm going to have to steal Tony for the day. Believe it or not, he's been slacking in some of his work, and-"

"I believe it,"

"Well, good," she replied, he could faintly hear her, "and you understand how those deadlines come out of nowhere for him..."

How did Tony get such good people.

It was when Steve's voice stopped that he was brought back to the conversation in front of him.

"Any questions?" he asked.

"Nope," Sam replied, for the team apparently.

"Good."

Steve went on, "and Tony, since you'll probably be staying here, maybe you could keep an eye and an ear out for that next location Fury mentioned."

Tony didn't deserve these people.

 _"_ I'll be sure to know before he does."

"Perfect. Then that's all for now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes that was short, but I need to get back in the swing of things. Thank you all again, seriously, for your comments. I really logged on, saw your notes, then went and finished writing this chapter. I'm looking at the notes I have written for their future, and I'm excited. Hope you all are too!


	18. Never the One who Falls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day with Tony and Peter goes... right?

Chapter 18: Never the one who falls

* * *

\- Morning of Peter's 3rd Day in the Other Universe -

* * *

Peter eventually shuffled into the kitchen, like Tony knew he would. As Peter blinked in the light, Tony walked over and got the whipped cream out of the fridge.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Tony greeted him.

"Good morning," Peter replied, rubbing his eyes.

"Still tired?" Tony laughed, looking at his watch almost noon. Peter stopped, as if trying to think about the question; Tony made his way with two plates of breakfast over to the table.

Peter frowned, "not really."

"Good," Tony stated, setting the plate on the counter on beat, "Because I've got a day of adventures planned for you – er, us. If you're up to it."

Peter blinked, "But what about… I'm sorry-" He cut himself off.

"About what?" Tony asked.

"I just mean, like," Peter looked embarrassed. "I didn't know if there was any way I could help in figuring out how to get me home? But we could do something else – I'm sorry."

The words stung Tony.

Peter closed his eyes, and with a quick pang of frustration in himself, Tony realized just how different this Peter actually was than his kid. He'd been thinking this whole time that he – Tony – had been the only one responsible for the differences in their timelines, because listening to the kid's description of the people in his life, Tony could understand his other self's mindset, just from what Peter had told him about his life, after he'd found him crying in the lab and in between Star Wars movies.

The tower's name being _Stark_ , for one. He can't admit the thought didn't occur to him back when they were building; he hadn't even said it out loud, however, because of course his tower was for the team. The title had come and gone, more as of a temptation then a viable option.

Then there was the conflict with who Peter had called "The Rogues." Peter hadn't said much about them, only that Tony and Steve had gotten into a fight, but considering how unwilling he was to answer Tony's questions made him suspect he knew exactly what it was. Tony remembered the emotions he'd felt when Steve had approached Tony after Ultron and discussed Hydra's brainwashing techniques and how Steve's old pal Bucky Barnes had been involved in his parents deaths; whereas Steve had wanted to go save his friend, Tony saw him as a target; but that was only until he saw that the brainwashing could be reversed. Something in that exchange must have gone wrong, in the other universe. It had to have been then, Tony couldn't think of another time he would have been angry enough to almost turn against his teammates.

But what had been nagging at him the most, was his lack of relationship with Peter. It made him feel so guilty, because this one was not so far-fetched, when he thought about it. He remembered back when he'd been annoyed by the kid's persistent questions, how he had felt like he had to act differently whenever the kid was around, like the kid was something he'd only had because Tony wasn't mean enough to just give the kid a suit and a promise and then never call on him again. These thoughts and feelings had been brief and quickly forgotten, as Peter had quickly proven himself and more – the kid had become a true teammate. More than that even, and Tony had never thought of it until after – after it was too late – that Peter had really been the catalyst that turned the team from teammates to family.

As Tony remembered those thoughts and feelings, he hated hisself for being the way he was. How close he had been to taking that route, and how lucky he had been that he hadn't.

But now, he realized that he wasn't the only one who had changed for the better.

This kid had no trust in him.

And not to say that Peter didn't trust Tony with his life- that much was evident; but in Peter's world, Tony had done it. He'd been mean enough to give the kid a suit with a promise, and then Tony never called.

Thus, the blind faith Tony had apparently earned from this teenager before, that Tony always had Peter's best interest in mind, was not deserved in the child's mind before him.

Tony explained himself; "Hey, don't apologize," he nodded, "keep asking questions. I just forgot to update you last night after I got home.

"We're doing everything we can, at the moment. And by 'we,' I mean I'm working with Strange and his Hogwarts friends. I have my system searching for energy waves, but honestly, I'm limited when it comes to the whole multidimensional thing."

Peter nodded, but his eyes were still on the floor.

"Strange said, and please forgive the lack of scientific terminology as I'm not sure there is any, but he's working on figuring out where the alignment of the universes are, and then once that happens he has to figure out one of two things. Option _A_ would be that he can try to send a signal to the wizards in your universe, and _B_ would be that we would have to wait until they align, in which case we would have to figure out a portal."

"A multidimensional portal?" Peter asked with a downcast look.

"Yes," Tony said, "And I asked the same thing. But apparently Strange isn't worried about making the portal once he contacts the other dimension's wizards."

"I don't know the other – my dimension's wizards. And they don't know me."

Tony nodded again. This, Strange admitted, could be the main obstacle. Because if the wizards weren't looking inter-dimensionally, Strange's messages could go unheard.

"He's taken that into account, which is why they're not relying on that to work. So yes, they're still sending messages, but also looking for the alignment thing, which would apparently make it easier to do more from this side of the portal."

Peter nodded. "Okay."

"However," Tony added, "we can add stopping by Strange's cathedral to our day's to-do list, so he can explain it to you himself, if you would like."

Peter didn't respond at first, and Tony looked sadly at the breakfast he had made, thinking about the day's he'd planned. (Well, " _planned_ ;" he had a pool of ideas to choose from depending on moment to moment.)

"No," Peter said finally, and he looked up to make eye contact with Tony; "it's okay," Tony thought he saw some hope, "I trust you."

Tony swallowed his feelings on that one.

Peter went on. "Let's go out, like you were saying."

Tony felt out of his place. "Do you want to?"

"Yeah," Peter said, "Really. I was wondering, and you answered my question. If you can't help, then I can't add anything. If I just have to wait, then I'll wait." He shrugged. "What kind of adventure?"

The resilience of this kid.

"Do you want an itinerary or a surprise?"

Peter face twisted in thought; "well, since everything we normally do will be a surprise regardless, surprise me."

"Okay," Tony said, "First task, breakfast. Then we're getting out of the tower."

That seemed to interest Peter, as his features finally switched to life and he moved in his usual step to take a seat at the table.

Peter smiled; "Sounds good; and thanks for breakfast," Peter smiled at Breakfast Man, "perfect time to get rid of my hungry-headache."

Tony smiled and picked up the can of whipped cream again, "and I'll take that as a personal challenge to keep that headache at bay for the rest of the time you're in my care."

–

Several hours later, Tony and Peter were laughing at a picnic table outside of a small country restaurant; it was far enough outside the city that Tony felt safe enough to bring Peter to, and even then he'd given him a disguise.

"Seriously, you look wonderful," Tony said.

Peter nudged the too-loose, dark aviator sunglasses back up in front of his eyes, causing the top rim of the shades to hide from Tony's view under the Yankee's ballcap Peter was wearing.

"Too bad _wonderful_ isn't the look I'm trying to go for," Peter argued, laughing.

"Too bad indeed," Tony responded, "because you look adorable. You'd have the chicks falling at your feet."

Peter rolled his eyes. "I don't have time for a girlfriend, and besides-" he hurried on before Tony was able to say something Peter was sure he didn't want to hear, judging by the look on his face. "Besides, we don't need anyone else falling; I already feel like I'm helping the entire city back up to it's feet every night I'm out!"

Happy's voice cut in the conversation as he approached the table. "It takes learning from someone as professional as Tony how to roll your eyes _so_ strongly that I can see it through a disguise that covers the upper half of your face."

Peter grinned and shrugged. "I gotta exaggerate so you know what I mean."

Tony nodded. "Exactly; it leaves no room for a misconstrued message. Yet one must always be careful not to go overboard."

Peter drew his eyebrows together and lifted a mock-scolding finger. "There's a little gray area that I gotta stay in."

Now it was Happy's turn to roll his eyes, and Tony just laughed. "That's my boy."

Peter didn't know how to reply to that, so he was grateful when Happy quickly interjected with a new subject- "take your milkshakes from me before they, melt; here-" he handed Tony his chocolate-peanut butter dessert, "and your fudge brownie with a side of pizza," he said, placing it before Peter.

"Awww, Happyyy," Peter whined, "you didn't get a shake?"

"Sorry Peter, but 4000-calorie drinks aren't on my heart-health-booster diet."

"Tis true," Tony added, "I just keep my heart healthy by surrounding myself with my _wonderfuI_ family and friends; and of course a certain magnet, but that plays a very unimportant roll."

"That's not how it works, Mr. Stark," Peter replied.

"Ouch," Tony said, feigning pain, "I'm no doctor, but that's gotta be worse for my health than this milkshake!"

Happy scoffed.

Tony lifted his milkshake up as a toast; "Here's to you, Pete, helping your beloved city back to her feet every night. Keep it up, just as long as you're never the one who falls."

They all took a sip, but Peter commented right before he took his: "I'm not anymore."

Tony almost choked on his drink.

"What was that?"

Peter grinned shyly, turning red with embarrassment.

"Nothing."

Tony's shoulders dropped in disbelief.

"I'm sorry- did you say 'not _anymore_?"

Peter paused drinking his ice cream to quickly say, "maybe," and took a bite of his pizza before adding, "maybe-not," and then continued delving into his drink.

"Nuh-uh, can't take that back now. Where are you falling? When did you fall?"

Peter gave up with a sigh. "I said 'I'm not _anymore_ ; I used to be really clumsy."

Tony raised an eyebrow.

"You know," Peter drew on, "before the whole Spider-Man thing."

Tony leaned forwards; "Oooooh, I'm intrigued; do go on."

Peter gave another Tony-worthy eye roll, and began his explanation.

"It wasn't anything that interesting. I would just like, fall off the monkeybars sometimes. I never broke anything, though. I also had this bruise here," he pointed to his left shin, "from accidentally kicking the corner of this old dresser in our apartment again and again. It literally didn't go away until my uncle got rid of the dresser."

"I'd like to see you kick it now," Tony said, "give it a taste of its own medicine."

Peter laughed. "That was nothing compared to the park, though," Peter said, "we'd go sometimes with our neighbors and their kids, and I swear every time I managed to fall out of a tree!"

"Wowwww," Tony laughed, "I'm beginning to think your basic ability to walk straight is a result of the spider bite!"

Peter shrugged, lifting his shoulder and fingers in question; "guess we'll never know. Although actually," He paused to take a bite from his pizza and push up the sunglasses again, "you're probably right on that, too. Aunt May said that when I was little, I used to walk into all sorts of glass windows and doors before they realized I needed glasses."

Tony gawked. "You wear glasses?"

Peter blushed, "I _did_ , pre-spiderbite, and besides, what's wrong with wearing glasses?"

"Nothing at all," Tony said, an awestruck look still plastered on his face, "I just didn't know! How come I didn't know?"

Peter laughed, "I don't know; it wasn't on your list of interview questions for me, I guess."

"Interview questions? For your 'internship'?" Tony inserted finger air quotes.

"No, for, uh," Peter paused, "yeah, I guess it was for the internship. You sort of recruited me to go to Berlin with you."

Tony nodded, "Recruited. For what?"

Peter shrugged and looked down at the table. "It was… a field trip type thing."

Tony didn't say anything for a minute. Then he addressed Happy: "You recognize he's lying too, right?"

Happy glanced at Peter. "Yeah sure."

Tony looked at Peter, then back at Happy, trying to figure out which one of the two's strange behavior to address. Rather than listening to another story about what a disappointment his other self was and bringing down the table's atmosphere, he turned to Happy.

"You're being uncharacteristically quiet, Happs. What's on your mind?"

Happy straightened up in his seat with a shrug. "Nothing's wrong," he said.

"I didn't say anything about something being wrong, you brought that up on your own. What's wrong?"

Happy glared at Tony. "I said _nothing's_ wrong." but then he turned to Peter and softened his demeanor, adding, "sorry, Peter, I'm just still getting used to this. I missed it."

Right.

That guilty feeling washed over Peter again. For a moment there, he'd almost forgotten he wasn't talking to the real Mr. Stark. Not that this Mr. Stark isn't real! But then, they probably feel the same way about him.

Tony rested his hand on Peter's shoulder, causing him to startle.

"Sorry," Peter breathed.

Tony smiled, "Don't be. I take it as a compliment you didn't know I was reaching for you."

True, Peter thought, his spider senses didn't warn him. He never really thought to look for patterns like that, though.

"Peter," Mr. Stark interrupted his thoughts; "stop overthinking things. We're glad you're here. Right, Hap?"

Peter looked at Happy, who nodded, forcing a smile on his face while looking like he was about to start crying.

His appearance made Peter laugh for some reason, and he was glad he had sunglasses to cover his eyes until Mr. Stark took them off.

"Heyy," Peter half protested, quickly wiping the trace of tears from his eyes before they could fall, "I see why you wear them so much."

Tony's mouth gave way to a half-smile, but he just set the glasses carefully on the table.

"You got me there. No suppressing emotions for you, though. We are going to get you home mentally stable and emotionally intact."

Peter huffed; "bold of you to assume I was ever stable _or_ intact!"

He got a laugh from both Tony and Happy then.

"So, where to next, boss?" Happy asked.

Tony looked at his watch, as if that had the answer. "Hm. There's a bowling alley around the corner from here I thought we could stop by. And by around the corner, I mean 30 miles away."

Peter grinned, "I've always wanted to bowl!"

"You've never been bowling?" Happy asked.

Peter shook his head.

"It's settled, then," Tony said, "I've got the place on reserve for us; you'll be able to swindle each member of the Avengers by dinner tonight."

Peter grinned, "including you?"

Tony stood up defiantly, picking up his shake; "most certainly not."

Happy wordlessly nodded from his seat, causing Tony so smack his arm before turning away towards the car. "Traitor!" he called back.

Peter shared a laugh with Happy, and tried to swallow down his undisclosed, still-present, and ever-growing headache before standing up to follow suit.

No reason to fret, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried my hand at fluff; did it work?

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think below!
> 
> Until next chapter!  
> \- J (UniverseMarvel)


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